Trick of the Light
by ishrinkingviolet
Summary: They were just kids in the same Sunday school class, and some things just fall into place when a cynical Eli Goldsworthy stabs an unsuspecting Clare Edwards with a pencil. An unconventional friendship flourishes and withers when fates intercedes, and they don't see each other for years. People change in five years' time. How will they dealing with seeing each other again?
1. Chapter 1

Eli had always been an intricate, trick-of-the-light kind of person to know, and Clare knew that better than anyone else. He always sat in the back pews in church with his friends, snickering and goofing off when the pastor was preaching. He stood up and silently mouthed the words when it was time to sing songs of worship, but showed no interest in listening attentively to the weekly sermons. In school he was always surrounded by groups of rambunctious high school boys, loitering in the hallways after hours until the hall monitors shooed them away. He was infamous, and he had a reputation for being snarky, for wearing Gothic clothing and for holding an air of dark, brooding mystery. His nails were painted black, and he wasn't the type of hold onto a relationship. He's never dated, and he was really good at keeping things to himself.

Even as a more innocent, much less matured boy, he was rougher and darker and he could hold his own better than anyone else. When Clare was eight and Eli was nine, they vaguely met in Sunday school. There were no formal introductions; everyone just somehow manage to learn each other's name throughout the course of the year. Even at such a tender young age, it was evident to everyone that Eli was beyond his classmates- snacks and bible story games didn't have the same effect on him. He was always quicker in figuring things out, and he always knew when someone was lying. And for some reason, this maturity attracted most of the giggling girls in his year, much to his annoyance.

"You're so silly, Eli!" little Imogen Moreno would squeal, twirling her pigtails and giggling with her other friends.

"Why are you doing that, Eli? You're so silly!"Marisol Lewis would echo giddily, playfully tapping his shoulder.

And pretty soon, almost every little girl in his class would be huddled around him, all laughing and touching him and acting like he was the funniest thing in his world. Poor Eli though, for despite his maturity, couldn't figure out why using black marker to colour in his nails was so ridiculous. The gaggle of girls would just continue to slap them with their hands, and the attention was suffocating.

"Stop it!" he said harshly, wincing and shrinking away from their reach. "Stop hitting me!"

But the girls would just continue to laugh and hit him. _Diluted little minds can't understand anything, _he would think resentfully, shooting death glares to each one of them. All the scorn directed at them was just a futile attempt to scare them off, and of course, his efforts would be used to no avail. The teacher was conveniently out of the room, too, heading to the kitchen to fetch crackers and juice.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a movement. Against the wall there were always dozens of stacked red chairs, ranging from the hundreds in number if counted individually. There were little openings underneath them, where someone small and agile could probably crawl in and hide out. The thought had never once crossed his mind, but when he saw someone hunched inside, the idea was instantly appealing. No one had even noticed her sitting there with her notebook and pencil, just crouched down and scribbling away in darkness.

"Are you trying to be a girl, Eli?" Imogen asked in her high-pitched voice, yanking the marker away from him.

"Hey, that's mine!" he yelled.

"Only girls paint their nails, Eli, why are you doing that?" Jenna Middleton teased, earning herself a screechy-giggle from Marisol.

Narrowing his eyes in exasperation, he resorted to the only thing he could quickly grasp at times of desperation.

"Hey look, Ms. Paisley is back!" he announced, pointing wildly at the opposite direction. The little girls gasped and scattered in excitement for the arriving snacks- or so they thought. Smirking in triumphant, Eli hurriedly got down to his knees and crawled in the dark tunnel.

"She's not here yet, Eli!" Jenna spun around in confusion, squinting her blue eyes at the door.

"Where did he go?" Imogen gasped.

But Eli was already so far in, he had almost reached the end. The voices were beginning to fade, the deeper he crawled, and it was nothing but wonderful serenity inside. The only thing touching him was the prickling cool air. Letting out a sigh of relief, he wandered only a bit further before deciding to sit. There was a nice big slot waiting for him at his right, and he was waiting to claim it when-"

"Ow!"

He turned around so fast he cricked his neck, letting out an "Ow" himself. He remembered he was not alone, and while it was better than being out in the open, he was a bit upset to see that it was another young girl accompanying him.

"What did I do?" he asked in outrage, seeing that he was so far away from her.

"You knocked into a chair on the way here," she murmured, though not in an accusatory tone. Cringing at the chair that had fallen on top of her, she gingerly moved out of her comfy spot, careful not to knock over anything else.

"Oh no, not another girl," he groaned, seeing her a bit clearer now that she was closer. Her hair and eyes and scent definitely confirmed that she was indeed a girl.

"Why? What do you have against girls?" she asked, slightly offended by his comment.

"_Your _kind had been abusing me for the past ten minutes," Eli stated in disdain, folding his arms across his chest. He settled into a spot right across from her, refusing to budge even if it meant having to see her face.

"Oh, well as long as you have a good reason for hating me," the girl nodded.

"Was that a sarcastic comment?" Eli asked, taken aback.

"No, I really believe you're being absolutely fair when you lump me together with the rest of the female population," she said, arching her brows at him.

He pursed his lips to the side, having not expected such a quick –tongue from a girl of his age. Subconsciously he was intrigued by this, but just leaned forward to better peruse her. It was very hard to make out her features in the dark, but he could easily see that she was very fair and soft-looking. Her hair is short, and her hands are small.

"You're Clare," he said, suddenly remembering. "You're the one with small hands and pale skin."

"I suppose that is me," she says, examining her hands. She smiles a little, in a way that reassured him that she wasn't offended by the way he remembered her.

"Well, Clare, I hope you don't mind me hiding out here for a bit," he said briskly, wriggling his bum deeper in. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. "I'm going to, whether you like it or not anyway."

"I don't mind," she said with a shrug, returning to her notebook.

And she really didn't. Clare continued to hum and scribble on the lines of her paper, flipping the pages every now and again. She honestly didn't seem bothered by presence, which irritated for some reason. Going from being the centre of attention to being absolutely ignored was rather harsh, and adjusting made him feel irked. He noticed, however, that she had an untidy scrawl like himself. She wasn't too fussed about hearting her I's and looping her l's- it was straight to the point, without any frills. It was kind of refreshing.

Clare found Eli easy to ignore, because unlike most people she knew, he was capable of staying quiet. He didn't fidget, nor was his breathing annoyingly loud and uneven. She was at peace with him.

"Boys and girls, where are Clare and Eli? We can't say grace without them!" Ms. Paisley exclaimed. It was obvious to the two that she was distressed about their disappearance, as it was so poorly concealed by her fake _this-is-how-I-talk-to-children _voice. All adults had that irritating high voice they used when spoke to kids, and Eli found it condescending. Clare secretly did as well, but knew that if she tried talking like that to her parents, she would get in serious trouble.

With Eli, it was another story.

"We should get out now," Clare said with a sigh, getting ready to crawl out of their safe haven. Just as she slipped out of reach, Eli instinctively seized her ankle, preventing her from escaping.

"Why?" he challenged, smirking mischievously. "We can stay here as long as we like. It'll teach them a lesson."

"You want to get even?" Clare asked, knitting her brows in concern. "People will get worried, Eli."

"I'd tell you to leave, if you're so scared about it," he shrugged. "But that's give away this hiding spot, and I'm not having any of that."

"My parents will be waiting to pick me up soon," Clare told him.

"It'll be okay. The sermon will probably run late today, anyway- Pastor Tim's speaking today, remember? Come on Clare, stay with me."

She bit her lip and looked down, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. It wasn't her intention to worry someone in this way, and she didn't want to cause any trouble. But the boy Eli was asking her, and he was holding onto her ankle with such a firm grip…it'd be cruel to say no, especially after seeing how the girls had treated him. She had watched from a tiny crack between chairs, and it certainly didn't look very fun. She had learned in Sunday school that putting others before herself was a good thing, and that being selfish was a sin. The small girl continued to gnaw on her lower lip in deliberation, unsure of what to do.

But Eli was running impatient, and decided to take matters upon himself.

"Just stay, okay?" And without waiting for her to respond, he griped higher up her leg with his other hand and towed her back to him. Clare let out a yelp, fingernails clawing at the carpet. Eli just kept towing her in his direction, pulling her leg like it was a rope and dragging her across the floor.

"Eli!" she whispered-cried.

Once they reached the end of the maze, he finally stopped pulling. A grin started to make its way up his face…until he realized something.

At this point, her skirt had completely ridden up, and was bunched around her waist. He was still holding her creamy white legs, and a furious blush began to pool at his cheeks. He released her immediately, and then quickly pulled her skirt back down to cover her bottom.

"What are we going to do here while they look for us?" Clare asked nervously, oblivious to Eli's thoughts. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and crossed her legs, Eli still sprawled with a beet-red face. He did the only thing he could think of doing properly, and folded her legs to mirror her. They sat face-to-face to one another, wringing their wrists and ignoring the distant calls of their names.

"You can tell me what you were writing in that book of yours," he supplied, pointing at the pad she was sitting on.

Clare shook her head, pressing her lips together. "It's private."

Now curiosity was really fired up inside of him, and he experienced a desperate urge to grab the notebook out from under her.

"Aw, come on. What's it about?"

She glanced uncomfortably at him, lighting rolling her pencil to him. "Private things."

"Like what? Your secrets?" he pressed, gently rolling her pencil back.

"It's a diary," she explained uneasily. "It's about things I don't like talking about with people."

"I can pretend I'm not a people," he volunteered eagerly. "Uhh…a person I mean."

"No," she said plainly, looking strained.

Eli frowned, disappointed at her reluctance to share. He couldn't blame her, though, considering he wasn't too keen on sharing his own secrets either, but still. It was right _there. _Right under her bum was something potentially amusing, and that was all he wanted. Entertainment. Because a little entertainment never hurt anyone, right?

Acting strictly out of impulse, he reached out and grabbed his notebook from under her.

What he didn't realize was that the pencil was still in his hand.

Pointing towards her bare legs.

And he had struggled quite a bit to retrieve it out from under her.

"Ow!" Clare cried for the second time of the day. But this time was different, because this time she was drawing blood. There was a nasty scratch across her skin, for the pencil's lead was still sharp in despite all the writing she had done with it. Eli paled at the sight of her once unscathed flesh oozing out bright scarlet blood, trickling down to stain the blue carpet. It looked like it hurt a lot.

Eyes brimming with tears of pain, Clare casted him a look of hurt before scurrying away. He remained seated, still clutching the notebook he had stolen from her, and shocked with what he had just done.

"Clare, dear, what happened to you?" Ms. Paisley gasped.

He scrambled into a doggy position, and crawled his way out faster than he had crawled his way in. When the bright fluorescents greeted him, causing him to squint, he was also greeted with extreme guilt. Right before him was the little girl who had had wounded, the only little girl who had been so kind to him. All his Sunday school classmates began to crowd around for a better view of the scene, mouths widening in surprise. No one could understand how she could have been so brutally injured.

Clare just whimpered and grasped her leg, crystal-like tears streaming down her face. Eli's heart took a pang, knowing that it was all his fault. With regretful eyes, he watched Clare nod as Ms. Paisley left to get the first aid kit. It didn't even occur to him that Jenna had noticed him coming out of the chair maze after Clare, or that she was whispering something to Marisol.

"Eli, did you do that to Clare?" Marisol accuses in aghast, pointing at him with her pointer finger. Everyone around her gasped and stared at him- some shrinking back in fear, others sending him angry looks.

"Look! He even has a pointy pencil in his hand!" someone said loudly.

"Clare's probably faking it," Imogen said even louder, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at the poor girl. "A pencil can't even do that. She just wants attention."

Suddenly, all the guilt melted out of him. It was so quick and abrupt, and the anger seeping through his veins seemed to have come out of nowhere….but it didn't. His hands balled into sudden fists at his sides, and his eyes narrowed into tiny little slits.

"It doesn`t even look that bad," she continued, bolding striding over to Clare and poking her scratch. Poor Clare let out a shriek, and more tears trailed down her cheek.

"S-stop it," she sniffled, wiping her eyes.

"You stop faking it then," Imogen glowered, reaching out to poke her again.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!"

Again, the crowd gasped, as Eli came running over to Clare's rescue. He was practically seething at Imogen's insensitivity, and couldn't take standing around any longer. Shielding her with his body, he glared at her with utter distaste, gently touching Clare's arm to make sure she was there and safe. "Nobody touches Clare! Everyone got that?"

His voice was so lethal, everyone quickly nodded without hesitation, including a frightened Imogen.

And that was how they really started talking.

-x—

The leaves turned to brilliant golds and brown, and the snow came and left. Spring was at their feet again, and they were another year older. Clare was now nine, and Eli had just turned ten. Everyone at church knew the two were inseparable, how one was never without the other. It was just how it was. There was no Eli without Clare, and Clare was never far from Eli.

"I wish I could move to your school," Eli said sombrely, pumping his legs until his swing took him higher and higher.

The park near the church was their special meeting place. Days when Clare's parents had prayer meetings after service, she was allowed to play with Eli. All the other kids would either be eating lunch in the kitchen or on their way home, so the playground was often vacant. On those lucky days, they headed straight for the swings- not the slide, because Eli hates getting shocked, and definitely not the monkey bars, because Clare was afraid of heights. There were two swings- the left one was for Clare, and the right one for Eli. Always.

"What's wrong with your school?" Clare asked, using a running start to pick up some height. Upon jumping on, her flouncy dress flew up in her face, causing Eli to laugh and look away. "Don't you have friends there?"

"I don't like the kids at my school," he said bitterly. "They don't get me."

Getting Eli was exactly an easy feat either. He didn't like candy or sweets, and he only listened to certain types of music. He'd cringe when all the boys sang the Pokémon theme song and pretended to be their favourite Pokémon, and he hated colouring with passion. He didn't like sports either- balls and all that crap had zero meaning to him. There was a thick silver band he always word on his thumb- it was too big for him, and constantly had to shove it in place, but he never took it off. Only Clare understood without questions.

"My friend Alli has a boyfriend," Clare mused. "She said it was weird that I didn't have one too."

"I'm never going to get a girlfriend," Eli said stonily, jumping off his swing at the peak. He landed solidly on his feet, never stumbling or losing balance. "I'm never going to fall in love."

"How do you know that for sure?" she inquire curiously, as he trotted on over to give her a push. "It's something you can control or anything."

"No one's going to love me, Clare," he said quietly, grunting as he pushed her again and again.

"That's not true," she countered. "Your momma and dad love you."

Clare was faced the other way. She couldn't see his face darken, just like the sky did when the clouds moved along.

"They don't. They just send me to church to get rid of me," he said grimly. "They're not like your parents."

Clare, despite being only nine, felt her heart ache for him. She felt bad for taking advantage of the unconditional love her parent gave her, when Eli had none. And come to think of it, she hadn't ever seen his parents in the sanctuary, or downstairs to pick him up. He always said that they'd be waiting in the car…was it so difficult to just walk in and collect their son?

"_I_ love you, Eli," she said softly. "Maybe your parents won't, but I do."

Eli stopped pushing her. He didn't answer, and Clare worried that she might have made him sadder. She stuck out her feet and let them drag across the sand, slowing down her momentum, and hopping off when it got low enough for her.

He didn't really look sad…but he didn't look happy either. He looked thoughtful, like he was chewing over what she said. He bit his lip down hard, eyes too distant and far away to read.

"Are you okay?" Clare asked worriedly, walking towards him. She got down on her knees and peered up at his face, moving aside his hair with her fingers. The face of a neglected boy stared back at her, stricken with sadness.

He shook his head, his unkempt hair shaking along with him. Desperate to cheer him, up, Clare glanced around. A little red bag sitting on the bench caught her eye, and she immediately ran over to fetch it. Puffing and panting, she unbuckled the buckle and jammed her arm in, searching for something in particular. When she felt something plastic-y between her fingers, she grinned brightly and pulled it out. She ran back over to Eli without hesitation, the baggie at her clutches.

"Look, Eli, my mom packed this for me this morning. Do you want some?"

Eli lit up at the sight of his favourite snack- grapes, but not the red kind. He hated the red ones, but loved the green ones. Eagerly he reached in and picked one out, popping it into his mouth.

"Mhmm," he hummed, holding up his damp fingers in the air. His thumb and index finger were in a clipping position, ready to pick up for grapes. "You know these are my favourite!"

"I know you, you know," she giggled, opening her mouth wide open. Eli plopped one in with a happy grin on his face.

"I think that if I were to marry someone one day, it would be you," he said pragmatically, suddenly. "It would have to be you, because all the other girls are annoying." He popped in another few in his mouth. "I also have to marry you because I have to protect you. It's my job, you know."

"Protect me from what?" Clare wrinkled her eyebrows together.

"Everything and anything," he said. "The world's not a safe place, Clare. I can protect you."

"Okay," she agreed. "You can protect me."

-x—

"Eli!" Clare called from across his front lawn, standing eagerly on her tippy-toes.

A broad smile grew on Eli's lips upon seeing her, and as quickly as he could, he yanked the blinds shut, jammed his feet into his shoes, and raced out the door.

Only just as he was about to say his hello, a wobbly kid on a skateboard came whooshing by the sidewalk, knocking Clare off her feet in the process. And instead of stopping to see if she was alright, he continued on as if nothing happened.

"Ouch," she whimpered, examining the cuts on her palm. As she had tumbled backwards, her hands instinctively caught her fall.

Eli watched the entire scene play out in front of him with wide eyes- the very eyes that narrowed into angry little slits as they glared at the kid roll on.

"Hey you!" he yelled, stomping on over to him. The kid turned around, and casted a condescending look upon him.

"_What_?" he sneered, coming to a stop.

Perhaps scrawny little Eli didn't seem intimidating as he advanced, and most of that was because he was quite short for his age. He was the skinniest in his class and the kid on the skateboard must have had a couple years on him. But that didn't stop him from seizing the older kid's wrist with surprisingly strength, causing him to let out a yelp of pain.

"What the hell?" he cursed loudly, staggering to follow where Eli was dragging him. Said Eli was practically fuming, and the more the kid struggled, the deeper Eli's nails dug in. He dragged him without pausing to take a break, dragged him with gritted teeth and flared nostrils.

"Apologize!" Eli growled, roughly throwing him on the ground next to a frightened Clare.

The younger girl shrank back in fear; but if anyone was afraid, it was the kid.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he hollered, gasping at the red marks Eli had left on him. They were an angry red, nearly drawing blood.

"It's okay," Clare said meekly, wondering if she should feel sorry for him.

The kid scrambled back up to his feet as fast as he could after he apologized, and scurried back to his skateboard without once looking back. Eli shot him one last contemptuous look, before tending to Clare.

"Are you hands okay?" he asked softly, gingerly holding her injured palms. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

"My…mom would always kiss my cuts and scratches," she supplied shyly, feeling safe in Eli's warm hands. "But you don't have to-"

He brought her injuries to his lips, placing little butterfly kisses on where she must have been hurting. His kisses her tender and gentle, extremely different to the way he treated the other boy. He was very sweet in that way, very loving and caring. He would never admit himself as the kind of gentlemen he was, but Clare liked that.

Eli would go to great lengths for her, there was no doubt about it.

-x-

December arrived along with the bitter cold, and it snowed in Toronto like it never had before. Clare's family was busily preparing for the holiday season by decorating the staircase with pretty twinkly lights and dressing up in festival red pyjamas. All decked out in the brand-new flannels her grandma had sent her from Christmas, Clare slid down the hallway in her socks, colliding against the front door with a loud bang.

"Clare! What was that?" her mother called from the kitchen.

"Nothing mom," she winced, rubbing her sore bum. The impact had definitely taken a toll on one of her cheeks.

It was only four in the afternoon, but colder than it had been the previous night. The heater was on full-blast, and Helen was bustling about making dinner. The frosty air was enough to make her toes and nose numb, but the hot chocolate her mom was making served as a good enough distraction. Clare jumped about in excitement for the coming sweet beverage, twirling and prancing about. Her father would be home soon, and they'd eat a wonderful holiday supper together soon.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Clare raced to open the door. _Daddy must have come home early, _she thought happily.

"Honey, who is it- oh, Eli. What are you doing here by yourself?" Helen frowned, wiping her hands with a cloth as she entered the foyer.

Scrawny, shivering Eli stood at the porch steps, arms wrapped around his poorly-dressed body. He wore only a thin fall jacket in a minus fifteen degrees temperature, and he was shuddering out of his mind. Neither a pair of mittens on his hands, nor a pair of suitable winter boots on his feet. The poor boy was extremely underdressed. He must have been freezing.

"Eli!" Clare exclaimed, pulling him inside. Her mother closed the door quickly to trap in their heat. "Wha are you doing here?"

"And where are you parents, dear? It's not safe for you to be out on your own," her mother clicked her tongue, looking concerned.

Eli's chattering teeth would not stop, and so he could not speak. Clare gave her mother a look.

"Clare, can you run upstairs and get a blanket from the closet?"

"Mom, can you do it? I can't reach the top shelf," she fibbed, preferring to stay with Eli. There were many questions floating around in her head, and she knew there was a better chance of getting him to talk when it was just the two of them.

"S-s-s-s," he chattered, trying to get out a word. His entire face was frozen and ruddy.

"Let's sit by the fireplace," Clare instructed, leading him over and seating him on the brick ledge. Another shiver rippled down his spine, and Clare took it upon herself to hug him tightly. It would warm him up quicker.

His muscles unclenched at her touch, and he relaxed against her.

"Eli, take off your coat and put this on instead," Helen insisted, coming down with a thick, woolly quilt. Eli obeyed, trembling as he peeled off his inadequate jacket. He groaned as the blanket was wrapped him, but did not let Clare let go of him. Instead, he threw it over the two of them, and continued to embrace her tightly.

"My m-m-mom and dad a-are not home," he said, looking up at Clare's mom. "I woke up t-this morning, and they were gone. I waited f-for them to come back, but they never did."

"Oh, you poor thing!" she cried, clamping a hand over her mouth. "You must have been so afraid!"

"Oh Eli, Clare murmured, eyes shining with tears. It was not fair that his parents left him like that, without telling him or anything. She knew that if it had been her, she wouldn't not have been as strong as Eli had been. She wouldn't have been able to muster up the courage to leave her house, it'd be terrifying.

"Do you know their number, dear? Maybe you could call them," Helen suggested.

Eli shook his head. "No, I don't. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Eli," she scolded, pursing her lips. "How could they just leave without their son like that? It's incredibly irresponsible of them…tell you what: why don't you stay for dinner? Then after, we can go over to your house and see if they're home?"

"Can you, Eli?" Clare says hopefully, gazing at him.

"That'd be great," he half-smiled, holding Clare tighter. "Thank you Mrs. Edwards."

"Yay!" she cheered, grinning. She turned to face Eli as Helen went to go fix another hot chocolate, excitement surging through her body.

But Eli didn't look so excited. On the contrary he let out a sad sigh, and hugged Clare even tighter. He gently pushed her head so that it rested on his shoulder, sitting up straighter so that he would be taller than her. He even fixed the blanket so that it covered her more.

"I don't think my mom and dad want me around anymore, Clare," he said miserably, twiddling his thumbs.

"You don't know that," she said softly. "Please…please don't cry."

A thin film of tears threatened to fall from his eyes, and it shattered her heart to see the boy who had never cried before, come so close to breaking down. He was deeply affected by his parents' absence, but only Clare could see how deep the wound was. She knew him better than anyone else.

"This is why no one can love me Clare," he said hoarsely, rubbing his eyes. "My own parents don't. How can I expect anyone else to?"

"You still don't think I love you?"

He shook his head, sniffling. "You can't love me. No one can."

On that grim note, circumstances would eventually lighten up… but only for a little while. After a wonderful supper filled with wonderful Christmas-type food and a bright-eyed Eli who had never seen such a lovely home-caked meal before, it was time to go home. As Randal and Eli suited up at the door, Clare had begged her mom to allow her to come allow. The night had been so much fun, and she wasn't ready for it to end quite yet. Eli didn't want to leave either; but being the guest, and being ever-so grateful for the joyous evening the Edwards had given him, he did not want to make himself anymore of a burden.

"I'll see you soon, Clare," he promised, patting her shoulder with the mittens she had lent him. "It'll be Sunday before you know it!"

"I guess," she sniffed, rubbing her sad eyes. "I just don't want you to go yet."

Eli looked at her, wishing that he could somehow alleviate the disappointment she was feeling. He didn't want to leave her feeling so upset.

"Maybe we can do that thing people do when they leave," he said, hoping to cheer her up. "I saw it on TV, There was this guy who put his lips on this other girl-"

"You mean a kiss?"? Randal asked, looking instantly uneasy.

"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically, grinning at Clare. "People do it all the time," he added intelligently.

"I've never kissed anyone before," Clare mused. "How does it work?"

"Clare, I'm afraid it's time for Eli to go home now," Randal said quickly, gesturing the boy towards the door. "It's getting late."

"But daddy, we need to figure out how this kissing thing works!" Clare exclaimed, furrowing her brows.

"There's logic behind it," Eli said helpfully. "You're supposed to tilt your head to this side- like this!" He cocked his head so that his ear was rested on his shoulder, and urged Clare to do this same.

"Like this?" She mirrored him.

"No, no, the other way."

"Oh Randal, give them a break," Helen chided, looking amused. "Let them figure it out first."

"Then what?" she pressed, letting go of her mother and walking towards Eli.

"They're supposed to touch."

"What's supposed to touch?"

"Our lips," he said, keeping his eyes on Clare. His cheeks glowed with a bit of a red tinge.

"You're going to have to lead, Eli," Clare said nervously. "I don't know how to start."

"Come closer," he said, beckoning her over. She obeyed, and took a few more steps towards him. They were now inches apart, Clare barely having to crane her neck to meet his eyes; he wasn't that much taller than her. She stood on her tippy-toes so that their lips were aligned, clutching onto Eli's shoulders for balance, and hesitated. The two took a deep breath, squeezed their eyes shut- maybe with more force than necessary- and leaned forward. Eli clenched his fists very hard at his sides, unsure of what to do with them.

They puckered up their plump lips and kissed each other on the mouth.

"Okay, it's time to go now," Randall urged desperately, grasping Eli's arm and practically towing him to the door. The little boy staggered a bit to follow in disorientation, staring at Clare. "Say bye to Eli, Clare."

"Wow," Eli breathed in amazement, just as Clare blinked in astonishment. Flustered, he was eventually dragged out the door without saying his good-bye. He wasn't given enough time to recover from the kiss he had just shared with his best friend in the whole world.

"Wow," Clare said airily. "Eli and I kissed each other!"

"How do you feel, honey?" Helen asked fondly, knowing there was no harm when they were oh-so-young. So innocent, so pure, a little kiss wouldn't taint that.

Clare, with the same amazed expression, inhaled sharply. "I want to do that again someday."

But they never did. Because that was the last time she had seen Eli Goldsworthy in the flesh.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm so glad so many of you like this! I'll be making sure I work extra hard on every chapter I post up, seeing how there are quite a few of you reading. I'm planning to make this story no more than ten chapters- it really shouldn't be that long, though.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Mommy, where's Eli?"

Helen smiled ruefully at her daughter, wishing to give her words of reassurance, but unable to without lying. There was something about her big blue eyes that made it hard to break the staggering truth of Eli's absence to her, simply because it would crush her. Somehow she managed to conjure up the idea that her best friend was merely away for an undetermined period of time, and that he would return one of these days. It was just a matter of time before he did.

Every day after school, she would simply sit by the living room window and watch the sidewalk, as if expecting him to come up the driveway any second. She would sit with her legs crossed on her father's armchair, and place her hands neatly in her lap. Her eyes never wavered, never took a break to look at something slightly more interesting. Clare would sit. And sit. And sit.

"Eli's away, but he'll be back." It was the same answer every day.

Little Clare would nod her head, and continue to stare out the window.

It was as if the seasons were changing right before her very eyes; the soft white blanket of snow began to melt as the New Year lost its shine, and there were puddles all around to herald the arrival of spring. If Eli were here, they'd be prancing about in their rain boots, splashing innocent neighbours walking their dog and racing down the streets. Eli would win, but then he'd pick up a soggy flower for her and say that only second place gets a prize.

When the temperatures began to rise, the sun would pour down on her from through the glass window. Clare would squint, knowing that if Eli were here, he'd let her wear his favourite sunglasses as they played Eye-Spy. Helen would have placed a nice blanket out on the front lawn, and they'd sit there and take turns guessing. The shades would colour-blind her, and the car that was supposed to be blue would actually be black and Eli would guess and guess and never get it right. He'd get frustrated and refuse to talk to her for days, but then realize that it was _his _sunglasses and hurry to apologize at seven in the morning. Randal would still be in his robe as an anxious Eli zoomed past him, headed straight to the kitchen where Clare was drinking orange juice. He would tell her sorry, and she'd let him have some of her juice.

Summer came and went. She watched the leaves dress themselves in magnificent maroons and oranges, and litter the ground with their colour. Autumn came to shorten the days, and if Eli were here, she would be jumping into piles that he'd rake up for her. He'd rake her piles after piles, only because he hid in a large leaf mass and scared her to tears. He would smile when she giggled and ruined his hard work, never hesitating to pile up more leaves for her.

When October seventh came around and Eli didn't come back to wish her a happy birthday, she finally accepted that he was gone for good. Because her mother had lied, and he never came back to play with her again.

-x—

The seasons rotated about five more times before something happened.

It was Sunday morning, and everyone in the sanctuary was chatting lightly with one another. There were cheerful greetings, unintelligible murmurs- the usual buzz filled the air, and Clare had assumed her seat somewhere in the corner. Time passed, and she eventually graduated upstairs to where all the adults were. It was boring, to be quite honest, because service wouldn't usually start until at least eleven-thirty and there was often too much time to be killed beforehand. Some days it was easy to occupy her mind with unrealistic, imaginative scenarios, but other days she wouldn't be able to handle her thoughts. Most days, though, she would bring a notebook and a marker to doodle while waiting. Tiny stars. Farm houses under the sun. Balls and balls and balls that would flood the bottom of the page. The balls would somehow turn into little grapes as her mind wandered farther, but then she'd frown and change them into awkward fat blobs.

Some things never change.

"Clare, hey. How are you doing?"

It was Luke, sliding across to claim a spot next to her. Clare smiled kindly at him as he did a little wave, setting his trusty black bible next to him on the pew. She took cue to put away her notebook, knowing that when he arrived, the service was about to start.

"I'm good, thank you," she said politely. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," he shrugged, wringing his hands. He seemed a little off put by something, with the way he avoided her eyes and stared at the ground. Clare, being the keen observer she was, furrowed her brow and looked at him.

"Is everything okay?" she asked concernedly.

"I-well, you know….like there's this movie coming out next week, and I was wondering…if maybe…."

_Oh, no. _Keeping her eyebrows pinched together, she continued to feign ignorance in hope that he'll lose his nerve.

Now, Luke was a nice boy. He was in her business class, and she really did like him. He was comfortable talking to, listened attentively, and was a good friend. And for the past few months, he'd been unintentionally making it clear that he liked their relationship as well- maybe a little too much. It was no secret that he had a crush on her, and had attempted to ask her out multiple times before. She wished, despite how callous she was being, that he would eventually catch on that she was more than happy with just friendship. His puppy-love feelings made it awfully uncomfortable when he tried to bring it up.

"I…never mind, the service is starting," he mumbled, abruptly turning away.

She let out a sigh of relief. Dodged another bullet there.

"…they don't. They were thrilled to see us leave."

"Eli, don't be such a prick about it. Be happy that we've at least escaped that hell hole."

"It was better than being back here."

"You're just depressed about not being able to find a girl like the rest of us, man. Sorry, but not sorry."

"Ladies can't handle our charm."

As the worship team adjusted their microphones according to their height and the pianist took her seat in the back, Clare swung her legs back and forth and hummed to herself. She contemplated making the poor boy feel less awkward by breaking the silence, even if he had made her feel so incredibly awkward in return. Maybe she could ask him about his progress on the business assignment, and then they could fall back into a familiar chatter.

"-besides, we're free, man! We can do whatever we want! We're stuck here on Sunday mornings, but tomorrow we start new."

"Just shut up, Baker. You sounded retarded."

"I'm talking to Goldsworthy here, thanks."

"Your brilliant extemporaneous speech won't sway me, you know."

"You're as stubborn as fuck, you know that?"

Yawning, Clare leaned back and rolled her shoulders. Already she was getting restless of sitting still, and yearned for the comfort of her own bed. It had felt so warm and cozy this particular morning; she didn't want to roll out of it and leave it. She nudged Luke with her elbow, smiling at him with pressed lips. Another yawn escaped her, and Luke smiled back.

"Tired?" he asked.

"A little. It was so cold when I woke up, I didn't want to leave the house."

"You'd think it get easier with time, wouldn't you?" he said sympathetically, slumping down a bit. "Been waking up Sunday morning for as long as I can remember, and it's still ridiculously difficult."

As the words _Amen _leave her lips, the movement going on behind causes her to perk her ears up.

"Eli's never been like any one of us, you know? You're always drifting off in your own little place."

"Yeah, well sometimes I can't be bothered to keep up with you Neanderthals all the times, so forgive me for wanting to pull away."

"Smartass Goldsworthy."

Clare's legs slowed down in momentum, and her muscles stiffened a bit. The strangest thing then happened. Her veins, they filled with something like ice, charging through her body then melting into a heated substance. Her heart began to pump faster, and she froze. It was something, and her mind was processing a thousand miles per hour trying to pinpoint what was going on.

"This place isn't half bad, though. I don't understand why you hate it so much."

"It just reminds of me things I'd rather forget, thank you very much."

_There it was again! _It was right there, at the tip of her tongue, and she couldn't wrap herself around it. She had to turn around, but twisting her neck felt a lot like trying to unscrew a lid by turning it right. It suddenly felt like one of those dreams where you knew you had to move your limbs, but you couldn't. And not because you were physically incapable of moving them, but because your body is rejecting. Like you were panicking but not really. It was more of a disoriented kind of panic. It took her a while to build enough courage to turn around, but she did, and she glanced from through her eyelashes.

It looked like child-like innocence has been stripped away from him, replaced by something of a cold, unwelcoming demeanor. His nails were painted-black, and his eyes were a forest-green. That was all of him that she could find that wasn't alarming, for a monster appeared to have swallowed him whole. A dark military-styled coat and black combat boots adorned his body and feet, and black eyeliner added an unsettlingly grim touch to his appearance. A harsh black cuff on his wrist, a chained necklace around his neck. Deep purple bruises under his eyes. His hair was longer, greasier, shaggier, untended to, neglected.

It was like something had died inside of this boy.

She had to keep herself from clutching her throat and gasping, for it all came crashing down on her like bricks. Whipping around so fast that her neck might have snapped off, there was a flash.

Eli as a kid, popping green grapes into his mouth.

_Flash._

Eli throwing the kid on the skateboard next to her.

_Flash._

Eli yanking her notebook from under her.

It was not merely a coincident, because there were some things that you just knew. And it wasn't just his startling appearance that alarmed her- it was that he quirked his eyebrow at her, like he had been staring at her the whole time.

It was too much, and Clare felt like throwing up.

"Excuse me," she gasped, ripping out of her seat and heading straight out the door. She didn't look back to see who was looking, or if Luke had something to say. She didn't stop until she burst through the front doors, and could support herself using the metal-poled railings along the parking lot.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself. Even though it's not.

Things that were scary and hurtful and scaring, even as a naïve little kid, was scary hurtful and scaring even now. Those feelings never change. Those feelings had been buried for a long time, but not long enough to forget. Those old feelings resurfaced, leaving her with no other option than to face them.

With a nauseating feeling creeping up her throat, Clare closed her eyes. He _dared_ to return to their church five years later, five years older, and five years without her hearing a word from him. Ambling in as if he had never fallen off the face of the Earth and left her so utterly confused and hurt in her child-like sadness, he decided to come back one day without warning, rendering her to the state of perturbation. Like that was in any way fair.

And with him, he brought friends- of course he had made friends. She herself would have killed to be one of them. Clare didn't know what brought him back, or why he had even abandoned her in the first place. She couldn't understand why he voluntarily hung out with those boys, either, they were loud, rather obnoxious, and _Neanderthals,_ for Goodness sake. Ten-year old Eli would scowl upon such juvenility and arrogance. Five years-older Eli welcomed it.

Anger bubbled up inside of her. How _dare _he walk in here like nothing happened, all changed and reformed? He left her, and now he's back-

Pause.

Slowly, she looks up. There's a glass window cutting across the foyer and into the sanctuary. She could see the back row quite clearly. The back of their heads, at the very least, were quite visible, and in the far right he saw him. He was looking her way.

Her chest involuntarily filled with oxygen, and her feet felt like they lifted off of the sidewalk. In that moment when she made eye contacts with him from a far distance, everything inside of her coiled and tensed. He saw her, and she saw him. Everything around her became a buzzing, hazy fog, because all she could concentrate on was the expression he wore on his face. She strained everything towards him, hoping to read him. He was very calm, very lukewarm. Clare held her breath.

Then he looked away.

-x—

"Excuse me," Clare said in a quiet voice, sometime twenty-six months later.

It was one of those unfortunate days again, when the crowd decided to park in front of her locker. They were noisy and rude and intimidating and she wished they would allow her to pass through just long enough for her to pick up her stuff, but of course none of that was happening.

They were Eli's crowd, and she used to be afraid of running into him when they were around. She used to avoid him at all cost, try to memorize his schedule so that she wouldn't have to see him. Being in the same hallway as him, or even passing by him…it was humiliating and painful and furious tears would end up running down her face. She was so angry at him for leaving her without notice, not bothering to say goodbye or even leave a note. It was not fair that he could leave her like that, and she hated that he didn't even try to talk to her. It was not that he doesn't remember her either- she wouldn't accept that kind of bull. If she could remember him at first sight, then so could he. He was a coward, that's all he was, and she wanted nothing to do with him.

It took six months for her to finally let him go. Down the drain went all the wistful thinking and empty hope, and even though it hurt like hell, she was glad she saw him again. It convinced her to move on, and she was glad. He was just a stupid childhood friend, anyway.

And mysteriously, Eli never got in her way again. Occasionally she could see him in the distant, but it was never more than that. It was a good thing.

"No fucking way, man! You did not!" One boy shouted raucously, stepping back and throwing his arms in the air for emphasize. He was so tall, he didn't see poor Clare standing behind him, and sent all her books tumbling onto the ground.

"Baker, you asshole, look what you did!" another one snorted, pointing directly at Clare.

She gulped.

"Sorry girl. Didn't see you there," he snickered unapologetically, putting up his palms in defence.

"It's okay," she murmured, bending down to pick up her things.

"Hey, I haven't seen this one before," the other guy said, stepping forward to get a better look. Clare kept her eyes on the ground, doing anything but meeting his steely gaze. "What's her name?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw everyone shrug.

"Hey, what's your name?" he bluntly asked her.

Hesitatingly, she rose, gripping her books with more force than necessarily. She was late, and Alli wouldn't be very pleased if she kept her waiting.

"Clare."

" ," he whistled, causing an _oooo _to outbreak. Her stomach knotted uneasily as she dialed her combo, fingers trembling slightly from nervousness. "I've heard things about you."

And Mike Dallas was a total number, with the hockey jacket he sported year-round, and teammates that acted as cronies more than not. He was infamous for running through more girls than pairs of shoes when he wasn't on the rink, but Clare couldn't see how that would be of him. He wasn't substantially attractive in any shape or form, and he was ridiculously arrogant. In fact, when it came down to it, his sidekick Luke Baker would be slightly better than him. Just slightly.

"And what are these supposed things?" she inquired, casually loading up her bag.

Almost instantly she regretted asking him, because he then leaned close to her ear. With the exception of his hands being stuffed in the pockets of his hockey jacket, he was invading her personal space in every way she felt uncomfortable with. His breath tickled her ear, cold and uninviting. She resisted the impulse to cringe and push him away, but she didn't want to provoke him. It wasn't worth it.

"Virgin," he whispered, sending a horrible tingling sensation down her spine.

"Dallas, you're freaking the girl out," someone teased, slapping his back. "Give her some space!"

"Not in my vocabulary," he said breathily, perusing Clare like she was a meal.

Quickly, quickly, quickly she twisted her lock back in place again, every nerve in her body on high alert. This guy was bad news, but he was intimidating. She made the mistake of looking at him, because when she looked at him, he would see the sheer fear in her eyes. He saw her like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Dallas was like a predator. Like he hunted virgins.

"I have to go," Clare said impulsively, turning on her heel and walking away. She only managed to gain a few feet when she felt a hand seize her wrist, keeping her then rooted in one spot.

"I'll see you again, Clare," he whispered in her ear.

And she really hoped that he wouldn't. She had made it three years in this school without ever having to come face-to-fact with Dallas, and she much rather it had stayed that way. He was an impudent jock, a haughty one from what she gathered, and she wanted nothing to do with him. Of course, people don't always get their way, and that was just how it was.

-x-

He hadn't gone back to church in twenty-six months since then, and he didn't plan on ever going back.

The guys were all sprawled out in the sitting room downstairs, entertaining themselves by the means of eating chips and drinking beer. He was upstairs hiding away, pretending to be asleep. He was pretending that he was not sitting in the middle of the room, legs crossed and hands folded and eyes burning a hole in the cardboard box underneath his bed. Because that would be pathetic, and that's exactly what he was. Pathetic. But no one needed to know that.

Sometimes it helped to take out the box and indulge himself. He allowed himself to only look through it when absolutely necessary and it was not because he would get bored of it- far from it, on the contrary. He could not risk getting too involved, as every single item in that box was painfully nostalgic and would just be too much to handle all the time. As desperate as he was to grab it and rip open the lid, he exercised self-control. It was the only thing that kept him from going crazy. That, and the contents of the very box.

It was a complicated thing.

He hasn't opened it in almost two years, and it was time to break the stream.

Getting down on his knees, he ducked down under his bed to slide the medium-sized box towards him. He swiped the surface to remove the dust that had collected in top, knowing that it had been way too long. Twenty-six months, and he didn't know how he did it. He remembered freaking out that day he saw her for what felt like the first time in decades, and how he had to keep from hyperventilating on the way home. He had used every ounce of his strength he had to keep from going through a panic attack right then and there. It was self-control on a level he'd never exercised before. He remembered, as clear as day, how much he wanted murder that boy next to her. He remembered feeling betrayed and hurt, and that was something he tried hard not to think too much about. And above everything else, he remembered pretending that she was nothing more than a stranger to him. He was a total ass about it too, holding her gaze, egging her on, and then turning away in the same matter he would swat a fly. He had to admit that it was harsh, even for him.

Did he want to leave her? Hell no. It wasn't up to him to decide.

Did he regret ignoring her for the past years? Maybe, because I probably left her so hurt and confused. Not that mattered anymore, anyways- it was obvious that she moved on.

_Moved on. _Unaffected, easily, and totally scot-free. Like he never meant anything close to what she meant to him.

He had been a cold rock for the last seven years of his life. Feeling years worth of buried emotions all at the same time was simply ground-breaking, and he couldn't He just couldn't.

Eli Goldsworthy swallowed roughly.

With trembling hands, he lifted the cover off the box and reached in.

The first item he picked out was a doggy-eared birthday card he had received for his tenth birthday. Eli smiled bleakly as he ran his fingers through the texture of the green glitter, the velvety ribbon tied in a bow at the top, and the tiny birthday cake drawn in the cover. Everything about it screamed _Clare_.

_"Eli, you're here!" she cheered, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Come on!"_

_Clare was dressed in a pretty flowery dress, clad in only her sock-feet. Her bright blue eyes were sparkling with untold excitement that made him do a little smirk- with the way his hands were jammed in his pocket and how his jeans were a little ragged and torn, the contrast between them was something to laugh about._

_"Hi there," he said, doing a little wave. He chuckled when Clare impatiently grabbed his arm and dragged him in, slamming the door behind him. "What's the rush? Do we have a plane to catch or something?"_

_"Oh, you think you're so witty," she shook her head, towing him towards the kitchen._

_"I am," he said pragmatically. "Handsome, smart, and modest too."_

_"You watch too much TV, Eli."_

_Clare rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose at him. But then she smiled because he was here, and she was so happy to see him._

_"Okay, close your eyes," she said, whirling around to obstruct his view._

_"Why?" Eli asked._

_"Just close your eyes."_

_"But whyy?" he complained, insisting on being difficult. Clare put her hands in her hips, and Eli mimicked her. "I want to see!"_

_"You will," she reassured him, growing annoyed. "Just shut your eyes!"_

_"But Claaareeee," he whined, folding his arms and pouting. _

_"If you don't close your eyes, then there'll be no surprise for you," she said, giving him an ultimatum that made him pout even more. "Then you'll have come all the way here for nothing. And I'll never bring green grapes to Sunday school ever again."_

_Eli gasped, horrified by the conviction in her voice. You wouldn't."_

_Clare's eyes tightened in absolute seriousness, nodding her head. "Do you want to wait and find out?"_

_"Fine," he quickly caved, slapping his hands over his eyes. "I'm waiting," he added obnoxiously._

_There were some scuffing, some running footsteps, the sound of clinking metal and the sound of drawers being opened. Tempted to peek through his fingers, he slowly and discreetly shifted his middle finger higher up his face. Through the crack, he saw a plump balloon ties to one of the dining room chairs. Why did she have a balloon?_

_"Okay, open your eyes!"_

_He did, and he saw the most amazing thing in front if him. It was brown with green sprinkles and it had a blue candle sticking it the middle of it. A card sat next to it, decorated nicely. The chair in front of it with the balloon ties to it was pulled out, inviting him to take a seat._

_"Happy birthday, Eli!" Clare exclaimed, jumping up and down. Her parents then came in. her father holding a strange-looking stick-thing._

_"Happy birthday, dear," Helen told him, smiling kindly._

_"What's that?" Eli asked in bemusement, pointing at the tool Randall was holding. He watched with wide-eyes as he brought it near his present, gasping when a little flame flicker on. "Why are you setting Clare's present on fire?!"_

_"Just watch," Randall smiled. He touch the stick-thing with the candle. When he pulled away, the candle then had a flame if its own. _

_"Oooh, can I touch it?" he asked eagerly._

_"No!" Helen yelped, throwing her hands in front of him. Eli looked wide-eyes at her. "I mean...why don't you just make a wish and blow out your candle? Clare had worked hard to make this, you know."_

_Clare beamed at him._

_They sang happy birthday to him, and it was foreign. The way his heart bubbled up warmly was something he had never felt before. He had never received a present before. Nobody went out of their way to make this day special. And in that moment, he felt like he was family. Clare's family._

_And he couldn't think of a better gift than that._

_"Make a wish," Clare whispered in his ear. "And make it count. You only turn ten once, remember?"_

A wet droplet landed on Clare's pretty bow, and he instinctively wiped his eyes. He was fucking crying, for fuck's sake, because he wanted it again so badly. His heart ached to be with Clare and her family. But mostly he wanted to be with Clare again.

Eli had to take a break before reading her card.

_Dear Eli,_

_Hello best friend! I hope you like the fat cupcake I baked you. It's chocolate, and I know you don't like sweet things, but I promise you it's not sweet as you think! I got green sprinkles because I think they look good with your eyes. They're such a pretty green, and sometimes I wish I had eyes like yours!_

_You're ten. You're older than me but you're my very best friend and we're so different. I think that's good because then we won't get bored of each other. We always argue, but we always make up in end. I like that about us. :)_

_I hope I made your birthday a little more special! I love you!_

_From, Clare_

"Noo," he croaked, dropping the card in the box and pushing it away. It was too much. Picking through these things was a bad idea, and he shouldn't have let temptation overtake.

Just then, a huge roaring sound could be heard from downstairs.

"What the fuck is going on down there?" he muttered under his breath, getting on his feet. He twisted open the doorknob and stepped out into the hall, peering down.

"How is she? Is she as innocent as everyone says?" Milligan pressed, as all the other guys watched Mike Dallas with awe in their eyes.

Clearly enjoying the attention and admiration directed towards him, Dallas smirked and got up. He turned to face his awaiting audience.

"Trust me, this girl is pure. Just wait until I fuck her senseless, and I'll give you the play by play," he said haughtily, as the room erupted in roars and sounds of excitement.

"Never screwed a virgin girl before," Baker mused. "And guys, have you seen the girl? She was trying to get to her locker the other day, and she was honestly the most defenceless thing ever. She'll be easy."

"But I heard she's waiting," Drew Torres pipes up, looking confused. "Wouldn't she be pretty unwilling?"

"God, Drew. You're so naive," Dallas shook his head, looking smug. "Trust me, okay? By this time next week, I'll have swiped her V-card, and have a good story to tell. It's a win-win situation."

"She's kind of got a nice rack, too," Baker added helpfully.

"Oh." Drew still looked a little bit confused, but knowing him, it was kind if a permanent thing.

Eli rolled his eyes, thoroughly disgusted by his housemates. These were the guys he spent a vast part of his teen years with, and now that he was living with them...

"What's the girl's full name, anyway?" Drew asked curiously, grabbing a handful of chips.

Eli began to turn back into his room, having heard too much for his liking. He didn't need to hear about the girl of the week; he lost track after the first four, and he had no intentions of keeping up now. Maybe he could find something more productive to do, like the English paper he'd just been assigned on Monday. Anything to distract him.

"Clare," Dallas announced, sounding proud. "Clare Edwards."

That was when all of hell broke loose.

* * *

**There'll be more Eclare interaction soon, I promise!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**anon 2: **_**I don't plan on discontinuing _Cold_, but I'm afraid that it is on a bit of a hiatus. Maybe if inspiration hits, I'll start working on it again. But until then, I don't think I'll be updating for a while. I'm glad that you like it though!**

**Thanks everyone for the amazing response! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.**

* * *

He walked with purpose, ignoring all the dirty looks he was receiving as he shoved by. Not an _excuse me_ or a _sorry _as he bumped shoulders with multiple people on his way there, for his mind was buzzing and completely occupied by one thought. With the way he strode by, it was more of a _get the hell out of my way _kind of thing that had most people shrinking back as opposed to speaking up.

Eli hadn't been in the local hockey rink too often, for the reason that he didn't care much about the sport- to be honest, he didn't give two shits about any sport, given that he was scrawny and hated most types of physical exertion. Sports were stupid. Balls and pucks were stupid. But more than anything else at the moment, Dallas was stupid- at least, that was a classier way of explaining what Eli thought of him.

He heard his voice from down the hall, and charged forward without a second thought. His skin was on fire, burning to the touch from fury. He ran on the adrenaline from anger, and it was climbing, escalating with every step closer. His knuckles were white from clenching them so hard. He was in a dangerous state, and if you knew Eli, you'd be in the right mind to flee. Pack up your bags and take the next train to Pennsylvania. Leave your school and sisters and brothers, because Eli Goldsworthy was volatile and seriously pissed.

The team was huddled together in the cramped change room, still in their sweaty hockey gear as they chugged gallons and gallons of water. Every single person was drenched with perspiration, only watching Dallas's whiteboard with half-attentive eyes.

"-and that's when you, Milligan, will take the puck around and pass it to our offence," he instructed, pointing at his diagram. "From there, Sa-"

No one had notice Eli bursting in until their team captain was in a headlock. It all happened very quickly- one minute, the marker was in Dallas's hand, jabbing at the whiteboard. The next, the marker had flown out of his grip and he was suddenly in a vice-tight bind. Everyone stood up at once, first intending to pry Eli off of him, but then hesitating to do so. Scrawny as he was, Eli was definitely someone that could be absolutely terrifying when rubbed the wrong way. As many of them had lived with him for quite some time, they knew. Who was the one who got the only single room in the group home? Who was the one nobody dared to steal from, knowing that whatever it was, it wasn't close to being worth it? The younger members of the team who did not know Eli didn't try anything either, because for just a skinny-looking guy, he managed to get Dallas on the ground and gasping for help.

"_What the actual fuck?!" _Dallas choked, eyes bulging and face turning red.

"Tell me it's not true," Eli growled, slamming him on the ground. Dallas's face collided against the dirty floor with an awful smashing sound, causing everyone in the room except for Eli to wince. His heavy hockey gear didn't help him much, as it only weighed him down, making the impact much louder.

Blood dripping down his mouth, Dallas touched his red-stained nose. Slowly and warily pulling himself in an upward position, he winced and bean to cough, spitting out more blood. His team mates remained shell-shocked, and cowered against each other at the back of the room. They watched the scene play out in front of them with fearful eyes, not a single word escaping their opened mouths.

"The hell, Eli," Dallas muttered angrily, wiping himself with his sleeve. He glared at the darker boy with spiteful eyes, fists clenching in preparation to retaliate. "What the fuck was that for?"

"I overheard your conversation downstairs last night," Eli said through gritted teeth, casting a deadly look upon him. And maybe in that same night he could have confronted him, but he was admittedly too bothered and disgusted to act. As all his housemates left shortly after that conversation had taken place, he had decided to postpone until the next morning- it was one of the hardest things he's ever had to do, forcing himself to go to bed while they were out and about in the night. Knowing that he would not be able to track them down while it was dark, and then to wake up the next morning after a terrible sleep to find that they were already gone. He hadn't heard then come back, nor had he heard them leave. Eli was convinced they hadn't even came back home at all that night, and it irritated the hell out of him. "You're not going to rape her."

"I-"

"_Tell me you're not planning on raping her!_" He said hostilely, roughly shoving Dallas back on the ground as he tried to get up.

"Fuck off!" Dallas yelled, making a lounge at him. The two of them went soaring backwards, Eli's back first hitting the metal lockers with a dull thud. He let out a hiss of pain, but didn't hesitate to knee him hard in the stomach. It was soon a mess of grunting and hitting and pushing that neither wanted to give in on.

Eli and Dallas have always been at ends- they were a classic case of separate beliefs and separate personas, and in addition to that was reluctance to compromise on either sides. Eli doesn't get along with people. He just didn't. Dallas didn't either, but that's a different story.

As stamina began to dwindle and Eli's lack of athletic training started to take a toll on him, he felt himself growing more tired and out of breath. He was losing the upper hand, and Dallas wouldn't falter when it came to violence. He'd been in plenty of fights before on the rink. Eli hadn't, and it was showing.

"Just-just tell me," he growled breathlessly, giving one final push.

"Fuck you," Dallas spat, getting on his feet. His face, half concealed with bright scarlet colouring, looked contorted with pain, exasperation, and exhaustion. "Who says I was going to _rape _that virgin girl anyway? How do you know she won't come crawling to me?"

"Don't call her that!" he snarled, slamming him against the lockers. "And don't fucking touch her, do you understand me? Stay the hell out of her way."

"Why?" he pressed, crinkling his eyes brows in confusion and intrigue. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to provoke Eli when he was already so angry, but he himself was irate as well- _dude just interrupted my lecture and freaking humiliated me in from on my guys. Now it's personal. _"Do you know her? Clare Edwards?"

Ah-ha, score. There was a flicker in Eli's eyes, giving it all away.

"No."

"You're lying," Dallas smirked maliciously, folding his arms across his chest. "You like this girl, don't you?"

"Shut up," he said harshly. "I said I don't."

He didn't'. He can't care about a girl he hardly knew; it was just that she was a virgin, and it was different.

"Then why can't I fuck her?"

His patience thinned until there was none left, Eli grasped a fistful of Dallas's shirt and lifted him until he was on the balls of his feet. His body was battered, bruised, and aching with every movement, but he still found it in himself to keep pushing. The bluntness of his question, and the fact that he associated her name with such a vulgar term offended him to the point where he couldn't just stand there any longer.

"You can have any other girl you want," he said lowly, narrowing his eyes into wrathful little slits. "But you can't have _her. _I'm telling you now- if you touch her, I will personally hunt you down."

Dallas recovered quickly from the lethalness of his words, and began to wriggle away. Eli refused to back off, and a look of great annoyance replace the shock in an instant. "Geez, Eli, I'm getting really sick and tired of your bullshit. The world doesn't belong to you, you know, and neither does Clare." Ripping away his hands, he took a step back and looked Eli straight in the eye, almost daring him with his reluctance to back down. The tension between them was almost palpable. "And I'll fuck whoever I want, thank you very much." He paused, and an malevolent smile crept up his beaten face. "In fact, since you seem to like this girl so much, I'll be sure to give her a time she'll never forget."

"You're threatening me?" Eli asked sardonically. Dallas smirked so arrogantly; even his bloody nose couldn't satisfy the intense urge to throttle him.

"It's more of a promise, if you ask me," he said quietly.

Eli glared, and it looks could kill, Dallas would have been brutally murdered at least a dozen times.

"Come on guys, let's go."

Everyone started to exit without a word, glancing back at Eli as they did. Hurrying to leave before that trembling fist took a swing at one of their faces. In fact, Dallas even dared to linger, as if expecting him to burst again at any given second. Disappointed when he didn't.

Disappointed that Eli had somehow restrained himself from losing it again.

"Bye, Eli," he said softly. "If you ever decide to come clean about this girl, you know where to find me."

-x—

Clare had a lot on her plate that day. She constantly found herself running from room to room, making photocopies for an English presentation she had the very next morning (only to have it jammed after the first sheet) and hurrying to edit a newspaper article her friend Katie had her proofread. According to her, there was "no pressure", but the fact that she was neatly waiting by the computers in the library said otherwise. Clare could feel her beady eyes on her as she rushed to take out a history book before the librarian ran away again on another washroom break. It was four-thirty, and to add to the pile, she had to be home before it was dark- at this time of the year in Canada, dark usually struck around five. Time was not on her side.

As soon as she sat down with Katie's article, she felt a pounding headache eating her out alive. She was so stressed with having to keep up with everything, it was exhausting. It was only the beginning of year eleven, and she was so close to calling it quits.

"Fragmented sentence," she mumbled, underlining in red ink. She hastily scanned the last paragraph to make sure it was acceptable before handing it to Katie, anxious to finish up.

"Thanks, Clare!" Katie said graciously, filing away her article. "None of my favourite editors are free this afternoon, and the deadline's tomorrow. You have no idea how grateful l am of you."

"It's no problem," Clare said, smiling wearily at her. Only, it was a problem, because she was dead exhausted. Time was ticking away, and the sun was disappearing before her very eyes.

When it was just her and the sleepy librarian left, her phone buzzed from inside her pocket.

_Can't pick you up today honey- have an emergency meeting at work. Sorry!" – Mom_

"No," she moaned, burying her face in her arms. The last thing she wanted was to walk home on the coldest day of the week with all her textbooks on her back. She could already feel her shoulders groaning, and the straps of her bag digging into her skin. And upon exiting the school, she could already feel her fingers turning hard against the chilly winter wind-it was her own fault for being so poorly dressed, anyways. Her dark blue pea coat and brown buckles boots cowered pathetically as the frosty air rushed through her clothes, scoffing and its pitiful attempt to stay warm. With any luck, she wouldn't catch hyperthermia within her twenty-five minute walk home.

The end of the parking lot seemed impossibly far, and she appeared to have gained no distance with every agonizing minute she was outside. She only became colder, her nose only redder and her fingers more numb.

"I hate winter," Clare mumbled pathetically, hitching her heavy bag higher up her shoulder.

But then there was a sound cutting the windy silence- like a car was coming closer or something. She was still on school property, and many of the teachers were still inside- she really shouldn't have a reason to be scared. She was ten feet away from the building, for Heaven's sake. Clare continued to solider through, refusing to turn so much of an inch. The wind was coming from that direction, and she needn't have it blowing straight to her face.

Car jerked to a stop. Door slammed. She immediately began to walk faster, because it was getting darker, and being out so late made things a hundred times scarier than it would be in broad daylight. If she just minded her own business and carried on walking, than nothing should happen. The key word was _should, _and somewhere not far in the back of her mind, she feared that Dallas would hold up to his promise. If all of it really wasn't just big talk, and he was here…there was no stopping him.

"Hey," he said softly.

It was gentle like a caress, yet it sliced through the air like piercing shriek would. How is it that a voice so hesitant and careful slam into her eardrums in the way that it did? How could it have mangled her bones in a way that forced her to turn around, enduring the powerful blast of wind that tugged her hair back? It made her heart drop like an anchor would from the top of the CN Tower, plunging down so fast it would not have registered if something small were to distract. Clare whipped around as if she had heard an explosion, when really it was just a boy.

His hands were dangling unsurely at his sides, looking warm despite its exposure to the bitter air. Black motorcycle boots and a dark leather jacket with an army-green hood sticking out from behind. Lips parted and eyes staring like he hadn't planned this at all. He was hesitant if anything.

Clare didn't say anything, and just locked eyes with him. Her chest compressed and she swallowed dryly.

This was not happening.

There was a long, painful silence that consisted only of fixed gazes and lots of space. They stood far away from each other, because she was frozen to the spot and he was wary about getting any closer. Part of her had an urge to turn on her heel and continue walking, even though she was sure he was addressing her. It was harsh and simple, and that was why she was so tempted to do it. Clare could not afford to waste another minute of her life because of him, because five and a half year was enough time. He could not come sauntering in again, pretending that he hadn't done what he done. It wasn't fair.

"It's too cold outside to walk," he spoke again, uncertainly jamming his hands in his pockets. "I…I can give you a ride."

"No," she whispered. It was freezing and she wanted to sit in a warm, heated car, but no. She would reject him like he rejected her, only because it was fair to her. Maybe it'll inflict some sort of pain to him, and maybe for once he'll know how she felt. Or maybe her action would have a bigger impact, and she could run up to him right now and slap him across the face. Better yet, she could hug him and push him away hard, just like he had.

"Please," he said quietly.

And somehow, she ended up in his car.

"There's a jacket in the back," he said, not bothering to stop before driving straight out of the parking lot.

It was black and simple with buttons, and it warmed up her hands the minute she slid them in the sleeves.

"Put it on."

She tried, but thin as her own coat was, it was too bulky to wear under Eli's jacket. She resorted to taking it off before putting on the black jacket, shivering at the temperature change. Her hands were not long enough to poke out of the sleeve holes, but it didn't stop her from running her fingers along the passenger door handle. His car had a strange feel to it- slick and cool, but not unwelcoming. It was kind of cozy, unfamiliar.

"You know where I live?" she inquired, realizing that he had not asked her for directions.

"Did you move?"

Clare turned to face the window, having not been prepared to hear anything like it. Her chest was aching, and she was stung, to say the lease – she now was absolutely sure that he knew, had deliberately ignored up until this point. If her mother didn't have that emergency meeting in the first place, than he probably wouldn't ever acknowledge her existence. They were strangers to each, that's all they were. He's just a stranger who was capable of breaking her to pieces."No."

As they hit a red light, Eli spoke again.

"So…how are you?"

That hit a nerve.

"_How am I?_" she repeated in a dangerous voice, alarming him immediately. "How _am_ I?"

"Bad question?"

Eli Goldsworthy was unbelievable. "You left me for seven years, no contact, nothing. And now you ask me _how am _I? Are you seriously asking me that, Eli?" she asked in outrage, eyes flashing red. "Don't pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about either, because I know you know."

His eyes tightened, zeroing in on the road ahead. He knew it was a conversation that he had pushed off for so long. He wasn't oblivious; he knew how awful he had been, and had it been the other way around, he'd be pretty pissed too. Eli had even hoped that she would move on eventually, forgetting the terrible burden he'd been to her and her family. That was all he ever was, anyway- a burden. Nothing more, nothing less. And for the past couple years, he was convinced that everything that happened between them as kids was nothing more than a distant memory. Clare never ran into him in the halls again, never made eye contact with him as she carried on with her promising life. She seemed to have found the balance he could never have given her, and she looked happy.

It was as if he had never ruined her, but he was wrong.

"I thought you moved on," he murmured honestly.

"I couldn't," she said bitterly, staring hard at him. "It's pathetic, but I can't just flip a switch and erase you from my memories." Glowering, she added "at least, not in the way you did."

"I didn't forget you," he said in a strained voice, a little offended by her comment. "I couldn't have."

"Then you must be a pretty good actor," Clare quipped resentfully, undoing her seatbelt.

The car screeched to a halt at the side of the road, jerking them both backwards.

"What are you doing?" Eli gaped, eyes widening.

"I'm leaving," she deadpanned, though her eyes still gave away her anger. As soon as she reached for the handle, Eli quickly locked her door. She glared at him. "I made a mistake by accepting your ride."

"No, please don't go," he pleaded. His arm outstretched half-way, but then faltered and returned to its original position. "It's…cold," he reasoned pitifully.

"It's colder in here," she said curtly, letting the meaning of her words sink it. Eli flinched, as if she had physically wounded her.

"You can hit me, yell at me- anything," he promised, hastening to speak. "But please, please don't leave right now. It's too dark outside to walk alone."

Clare pressed her lips together, obviously displeased with having to stay with him any longer- and hell, that the understatement of the year. She was practically seething with anger, and her eyes that he remembered to be blue looked fiery red. She was the silent-anger kind of person, he realized, just like himself. No screaming, no fighting, no crying, just death glares and spiteful words. And he had to admit, it hurt knowing that she wasn't nothing to do with him. He probably deserved, but it still hurt.

"You're mad," he sighed grimly, averting his gaze. As cars drove past them one by one, he rested his arms on top of the steering wheel. He placed his chin on top, staring bleakly ahead. "And you have every right to be."

"Why did you leave without telling me?" she asked stonily. It was obvious she was trying to contain her fury- her voice was shaky and unsteady. "Why did you come back and treat me like- like I was some stranger?"

"Like I said, I thought you moved on," Eli said in strained voice. "We were just kids, and things change."

"That's bullshit," Clare said lowly, gripping the door handle so hard, her knuckles turned white. He turned to the side to peek at her, taken aback by her use of profanity. Yes, times have certainly changed, because Clare was mad and she was swearing. Those were two things he swore he'd never see in his lifetime. "There's a difference between falling apart and falling off the face of the Earth."

Eli's lips couldn't help but twitch at her choice of words, and turned away to hide his smirk. Though, not before she spotted him with her super eyesight.

"This isn't funny!"

"Did you seriously just stomp your feet? I thought only girls on TV do that."

"Don't you be quoting Twilight on me you…you-"

"What?" Eli challenged, pulling back up again. He smirked at her, and folded his arms. Clare couldn't believe that they were seriously having a conversation like this, when only mere seconds ago they were drowning in a sea of tension."What were you going to call me?"

Clare's eyes narrowed dangerously, only widening his smirk. Wracking her brain for something insulting to say, she blurted "You're such a-a- _Neanderthal!_"

Neither of them could have ever expected his reaction, as he threw his head back and let out a howl of laughter. It was loud and made his throat feel strange, and his stomach was positively vibrating with delight. He held it with his hands in a futile attempt to calm himself down, but in a way, he didn't want to stop. He liked the feeling, because even though it made his protruding ribs ache and groan in complain, the laughter felt light. For the shortest while, he felt like some of the weight on his shoulder started to shed.

"Oh, Clare," he gasped, wiping a tear from his eyes. "You _slay _me."

"What?" she asked in bewilderment, looking at him like he was a madman. "What did I say?"

Eli just shook his head, rubbing his throbbing cheeks with an amused grin on his face. "Sorry, I forgot how cute you were. Jesus, Clare, you're killing me."

_Cute_? Her own cheeks began to heat up.

"You're so weird," she muttered, twisting around to stare at the window. _He just called me cute._

"Sorry," he said again, not sounding sorry at all. "It's just the context was all wrong. Personally, I thought the word _irresistible _would be more suiting-"

"More like impossible," she mumbled under her breath.

"Tomato, to-mah-to," he shrugged, unabashed.

"You forgot _exasperating, _or _annoying_ or-"

"Jeez, wound me now, will you?" Eli grinned, enjoying the reaction he was getting out of Clare. Her face was a little pink now, and her lips were screwed to the side.

"I always knew you were obnoxious and snarky," she said. "Guess some things never change."

"So where does this put us, exactly?" he asked, now on a slightly more serious note. Careful to keep his tone lighthearted, he stretched back and folded his hands behind his head.

"I'm just upset with you, you realize that right?" she frowned.

"Fair enough," he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "And you know that I didn't leave you because I wanted to, right?"

The long pause told him otherwise.

"I didn't," he said quietly, staring at the darkening sky.

"Can you start taking me home please? My dad's probably wondering where I am," she said, looking away.

He obliged, sighing as he started up the engine.

-x—

They reached Clare's driveway in the matter of minutes, and by this time, it was completely black outside. The porch light was on, a sure sign that her father was indeed waiting for her return. Clare was busying herself with the button on Eli's coat, ignoring him as he insisted that she take it with her. Warm as it was, the evening had been draining, and an interrogation was the last thing she needed to top it off. Besides- knowing her, all she would want to do is snuggle up with it on her bed, inhaling his scent. It was extremely nostalgic, all in its musky-cinnamon glory. He always use to smell like cinnamon.

Clare returned the coat to him, murmuring a gentle "thank you" to him as she gathered all her things.

"Goodnight," he said softly.

"Bye," she breathed, casting him a cursory glance before opening the passenger door. Climbing out felt heavy to her, her limbs weighing down like she was wearing wet clothes. She felt like she was leaving something behind, but didn't bother to take a quick one-over to make sure she had everything. Leaving was certainly something, but turning around was something else. "Thanks for the ride."

She gripped the door, preparing to slam it close when Eli spoke again. "Clare?"

Clare leaned down to look at him. Dark, unfathomable eyes met her, holding her close. She held her breath, waiting.

"Don't go out on your own," he whispered.

And very soon, he was backing out and driving away, leaving Clare both confused, and feeling like she really did leave something in that car.

_A piece of her heart._


	4. Chapter 4

__**As I'm uploading this, I'm totally past curfew on a school night. I'm probably going to regret it in the morning lol.**

**I re-wrote this chapter so many, many times, so that's why it took so long to finish. I'm sorry for the wait, but it's here now, at the very least. :)I really hope there aren't any horrible grammar mistakes, because I edited my heart out on this thing. **

**Pop me a review if there's a part in particular you like, okay? Okay. Promise? :)**

**Enjoyyyyy!**

* * *

_Don't go out on your own._

Of all the things he could have said…he said _that. _What the hell did that even mean, _don't go out on your own_? Obviously _he _knew what he meant, but did Clare? Probably not.

Eli winced, replaying the scene over and over again in his head. If she was confused, she didn't show it. Her expression had been nearly unreadable- even for an expert expression reader like himself, he didn't have a clue what was going on in that head of hers. All while keeping this relationship strictly platonic-after all, he only felt it responsible for protecting her virtue; it didn't stretch further than that- he really hoped he hadn't freaked her out too much, showing up randomly at the vacant parking spot she was walking across and offering her a ride home. Not to mention, insisting that she put on a jacket he conveniently had sitting in his back seat all while driving her to said home he already knew the address of._ All the fucking awards to Eli Goldsworthy, for being the much cryptic creeper of all time, _he thought grimly. Oh well. He was doing her a favour, anyways. She shouldn't be judging him too hard.

And _obviously, _that was what Eli thought. That's him, easy, breezy, beautiful. Cover girl. Nonchalant and easy-going. Yep.

He had given Dallas a month, tops. Two weeks because he knew that was the longest he'd ever been interested in a girl, plus another two weeks because Eli had expressed an unexplained concern for her. He was going to try harder on Clare to deliberately provoke him; he knew that was a given. All Eli had to do was to keep Clare in his range of vision until then, and if any trouble should arise, he'd be there to stop it. To let this interest of him die down, he'd have to resist getting into any fights with Dallas- probably the hardest part. The mere thought of him making advances on a girl whom he watched grow up with bubbles and dollies was super sickening. Surely Dallas wasn't a straight-out rapist. He was more of a persuading, sweet-talker with all the wrong intentions. If only it was morally acceptable to punch someone for having the wrong intentions, he would have gotten away with accidently letting his fist 'slip' when Dallas was around…

Eli burrowed his head deeper beneath his fluffy pillow.

Then there was the matter even more complicated than that: after Dallas finds some other girl to pick on, would he still be obligated to hang around her? Eli wasn't trying to be Clare's friend on anything, because that would mean getting involved, and ultimately making a big mess out of things. His life has been a series of messes; he didn't need another. He would prefer to keep his distance from her, and so maybe after the threat has dwindled down he could slowly start isolating himself. Let her down easy. And if she were to ever ask, he could say that they were just not meant to be friends, and that maybe it would be best to let it be. He looked forward to minding his own business again.

There was also that tiny little matter of it hurt to be around her.

He twisted around again, breathing deeply against the fabric of his pillow cover. For one wild moment he thought it smelled like Clare, floral and light and all.

Honestly, he thought he did a pretty good job of hiding it. Hollow numbness was easy to manipulate if you knew how- a heavy heart wasn't. He remembered feeling the latter for the majority of the ride, and how much he had to concentrate on distracting himself. How much he missed her, and how poignant it was to be around her again. Because Clare, in addition to being his very first bestie and the only person in the world he cared about, was a living, breathing reminder of all the feelings he no longer had the privilege to feel. It reminded him a lot of the Harry Potter movie she made them watch some years back, when Harry looked into the Mirror of Erised for the first time. _Mom? Dad? _You see their smile and their healthy faces, but you couldn't touch them. You held them in your little hands for the briefest moment, way before you knew how to appreciate and savour, and then they dart away before you know it. Something happens, and they've been ripped away from you.

These things change you, and it won't ever be the same again.

He whipped his pillow across the room, pushed away his covers, and rested his hand on his bare stomach. He inhaled sharp, running his fingers across his torso. His rib cage was painfully protruding, and he was paler and sallower than he'd ever been in his life. Deep purple rings were permanently etched under his eyes. This was why moms urge their children to ear and why dads tell them their broccoli will make them big and strong- and Eli was a perfect exhibition of what could happen.

A smile then crackled across his face as he remembered one particularly humorous moment with Clare shortly after they first met.

"_That kid is so fat," he said bluntly, jabbing his finger towards a chubby boy bouncing past them. He pumped his pudgy little fists up in the air, completely out of sync with the music playing in the background. All the other kids twirled and skipped around, wriggling their pint-sized body around with no regards to the beat of the music. Jenna Middleton bounded around faster than anyone else, determined to show off how great of a dancer she was._

"_Eli!" Clare scolded, putting her hands on her hips and frowning. Eli mimicked her, frown and all._

"_Clare," he mocked. "Why are you looking at me like that? I mean, it's pretty darn obvious…"_

"_God just made Mo like that," she shook her head disapprovingly. "Just like He made you and me."_

"_Then why don't we look like that?" Eli asked, keenly watching the plump boy dance about. He never was a fan of freeze dance during music time, but it was always so fun to mock the other kids. "Look, he's even jiggling!" he exclaimed, pointing at him._

"_Stop it," she said, taking his wrist and turning him towards her. She held both his bands, trying to get him to dance, but Eli just stared at her."My dad says that well-fed kids are well-loved."_

"_Um, Clare? I don't think two people can love that much," he snickered, letting his arms fall limp under Clare's control. He twirled her around, enjoying the tickle on his forearm when her curls skimmed past his skin. "Does that mean my parents hate me, then?" _

_Clare's look of disapproval wavered. She bit her lip. "It's just a saying, you know."_

"_I know that," he said firmly. "But it's true."_

"_But look at me, Eli," she said, poking her tummy. "What does this mean?"_

_Eli leaned forward, examining her with an air of professionalism. Fatness was difficult to analyze with the loose-fitting blouse Clare was wearing._

"_Let me see," he poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, and patted her belly a couple of times. She giggled. "I think you're in the middle. But I know your mom and dad love you, so that doesn't count."_

"_See, it's not always right," she pointed out. "I-"_

_But just then, Mo had tripped over his own feet and came tumbling over to where the two were standing. Unfortunately for them, Eli was still bent over and peering at Clare's tummy, so when the collision hit, his face was mashed into her belly and they were sent flying._

"_Oof!" _

"_Ouchie!"_

"_Eli, get-off!" Clare gasped, trying to push herself up. Her arms shook like jelly, and she collapsed under the pressure of the two boys on top of her. _

"_Can't- Mo!" he huffed, trying to shake off the larger boy. It took a while, but he finally rolled off into a puddle of sweat and heat._

"_Sorry," Mo mumbled breathily. _

"_I think my arm is dislocated," Eli said, wincing as he held his shoulder. Clare continued to lie on the ground._

"_How do you know what dislocated means?" Ms. Paisley asked, surprised as she tended to Mo's minor injuries._

_Eli looked insulted. _

"_I'm pretty sure that was God reminding you to be nice," Clare groaned, lifting her head up to speak, before dropping it back down again._

It took him a while to realize that his stomach was shaking so hard out of silent laughter, his ribs were aching. He learned his lesson, though. _Don't call people fat. _He had an excellent time watching Clare face-palm and groan.

For a second, he considered scouring through the box underneath his bed again. Just for good time's sake. But it wasn't long before the wave of grief came pouring in, making him feel like his body was sinking into the mattress. His smile faded, and he shut his eyes for a long time.

He really missed being Clare's best friend.

-x—

Left foot, right foot, left foot, over the crack. Hop over it not because it might break Randall's back, but because he was at work and so was her mother and Clare was forced to walk alone in the slushy snow to get to school. Walking was so dreadfully boring, and she only liked to watch the sky gradually lighten up. She liked squinting at the tiny white moon that could still be seen up above and bringing her thumb up next to it. _No matter where you are in the world, the moon is never bigger than the size of your thumb. _Clare also liked to think that somewhere in the world someone was doing the same thing, because that made her feel less alone in a place of un-fantastical dreams and _no-one-has-time-for-bullshit-like-that _–ness. It was only a special place she manifested in her head that even the most trivial things have meaning.

She realized that she had been standing in the middle of the sidewalk and staring at the sky for so long, people passing by in cars were looking at her like they would look at a lunatic. Middle-aged women, grumpy old mean alike stared at Clare like she was a show. _Strange kid._

With a heaving sigh, she bowed her head and continued to trudge along. Maybe today would be a good day. Maybe something amazing would finally happen.

And maybe, she was just a strange kid because there was no one else to be strange with her. Once upon a time, there was someone, but he died.

-x—

Eli rolled into the parking lot with one hand on the steering wheel, not bothering to honk at students littering the lot. His face didn't even change when they all yelped and hurried away from the front of his car, clutching their chests as if Eli had actually planned on hitting them. He just swerved in and climbed out, neglecting to lock the old piece of junk as he strode off. Nobody would want to steal a beat-up, antique hearse anyway.

Twirling his car keys around his finger, he could see people staring indiscreetly at him through his peripheral vision. People giving odd looks and people giving frightened looks. There were people sneering and people who hadn't even noticed him altogether. Then there was Dallas and his teammates, blocking the front entrance because they could, and no one could stop them. Eli wasn't really on speaking terms with any of them at the moment, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

"Clare! Oh, excuse me-"

A long mane of black hair barreled past him so quickly, he didn't have time to dodge. She whipped past him at the speed of light, running towards the red-nosed girl who had just arrived.

"Clare, I've been looking for you all over the place!" he heard her cry. "Where have you been?"

Eli craned his neck around, unabashedly eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Oh, hi Ali," Clare said, smiling breathlessly at her. It was the first time he had seen her smile, and in that instant he knew she had it.

There was an observation he made, and it didn't him long to realize that it was applicable to Clare. Her smile- it was the precious kind. The kind that made your stomach bubble warmly and made you feel like you accomplished something. Some people had it, sometimes because they smiled so rarely, and sometimes because the genuineness they emitted was so palpable. His eyes fixated upon the curve of her pink lips, which were accompanied by a lovely pink flush painted across her cheeks. There was none of that fake blush thing going on there- nothing but pureness and innocence. And despite the brittle temperature, she looked well and glowy. She exuded a sense of wholesomeness and healthiness that could help but rub off of him a little. It wasn't infatuation, it was a fact.

He smiled a little-a smile so slight, you wouldn't be able to see it in a passing- and looked down at his feet, shuffling from side to side.

"-not fun," Ali continued. "I only live fifteen minutes away- I don't know how to manage to walk for twenty-five.

Clare shrugged. "I didn't really have a choice."

"You walked today?"

The two girls snapped their heads up in unison, zeroing in on him. Ali's expression was confused; Clare looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Alone?" He couldn't help himself.

"Is that so weird?" Ali raised her eyebrow, eyeing him critically. "Clare always walks to school."

"Well, she shouldn't," he said shortly.

"_Well,_ she has to. Why does it bother you so much?"

Eli narrowed his eyes at her. He didn't appreciate her input.

"Do you mind?" he asked acerbically.

"I do, in fact, mind. Considering you so rudely interrupted our conversation-"

"I'm not asking you," he said impatiently, causing the irritated girl to put her hands on her hips. "Can you leave for a minute, I mean."

"Eli, stop being so rude," Clare spoke up for the first time, giving him a look that made the piece of thread he was pinching from inside his pocket to snap off. "Please."

He clenched his teeth together, looking thoroughly annoyed, but all she did was arch an eyebrow. And what a powerful eyebrow arch that was.

"Fine," he muttered, rolling his eyes. _Whipped. _

"Well, I guess I'll head to my locker now," Ali smirked, pleased at the way Clare had tamed him. "I'll talk to you at lunch, okay?"

"Bye," she waved, nodding briefly at her. Clare's hand was mittened, he noticed. They were red and woolly, and they looked incredibly warm. _How cute._

"She was quite rude, you know," he said childishly, glowering a bit.

For such a small person, Clare had a staggering amount of power of him. It was kind of annoying, being pushed around for the first time, but she didn't seem to realize how effective her simple body motions were. She seemed legitimately irked by him.

But then something unexpected happened, and she burst into giggles. Eli's scowl dropped and he stared, bewildered. Having a girl suddenly start laughing at his presence kind of put him off, because it was just about the last reaction he could ever expect.

"Sorry," she giggled, covering her face to muffle the sounds. "Sorry, sorry!"

_Umm. _This was awkward. Was this a regular thing with her? He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he settled on gawking at her.

"What?" he asked self-consciously.

"It's just- I didn't expect you to actually listen to me," she grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Taken aback, Eli's jaws dropped slightly before he regained his composure. He felt as if he had gotten played, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. It was a lot of uncertainty in one moment, he realized, but the impish smile on her face that displayed her one dimple was simply too rich to ignore. A tiny dent on her cheek, and it was nostalgic. It distracted him, and it stopped him from forming a snarky retort.

"Why do you look at me like that?" she asked suddenly, cocking her head to the side.

"Like what?"

"Like you're perusing me. Why do you do that?"

"I….I don't know what you're talking about," he said, averting his gaze. Clare opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "You're dragging this out longer than it should be. I just wanted to know why you decided to walk alone when it's still dark at seven thirty."

She pursed her lips together, taking in his cutting tone. "My parents are at work."

"Can't anyone else drive you?"

She shook her head.

"Can you bus?"

"It wouldn't be reasonable for me to bus here I live. Why does it matter?"

It mattered because of reasons she didn't know.

It mattered because it wasn't prudent to be out in the open, so vulnerable when anyone could swoop in and take advantage of her.

It mattered because even thought she was unaware of the situation he had gotten her in, he couldn't afford to risk it. For the sake of his conscience, it mattered.

"It just does," he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. _Because you're defenceless and innocent and when I see you walking from the distance, you look so vulnerable. _

"Okaaay," she drawled, in a way that made her sound unconvinced. She pinched her eyebrows together in confused suspicion. "So tell me again why it matters?"

"Can you stop being difficult and just listen?" he snapped, glaring. She shrank back, finger flying to her teeth. She gnawed on her finger nail, making it very apparent that the venom in his tone had stung her a bit.

"Listening," she said quietly.

"I'll…I'll drive you for now on," he said tightly. "I'll swing by at around eight-fifteen starting tomorrow."

Her eyes widened. "That's not necessary."

"I'll wait outside the library for you after school. Don't be late."

"But…" she stammered.

He turned on his heel and left, and didn't look back.

-x—

In business class, Luke kept trying to catch Clare's eyes. It was unfortunate that in her peripheral vision she saw more of his face than the side of his head, as it was very distracting. She really wished he would stop; it was growing tiresome, having to be making excuses of why they couldn't spend time together outside of class. He was unintentionally persistent, and while she'd rather him get discouraged and let go of the false hope on his own, she knew that wouldn't happen. Luke was intelligent, but boy was he dense.

"Yes?" she whispered to him, keeping her eyes on the board.

"What? Oh, nothing," he whispered back loudly.

"If you have something to say, go right out and say it," she pressed, clasping her hands together in a professional manner. She did not look at him fondly, or spare him the benefit of the doubt. Clare felt a bit guilty about behaving so coldly towards him, but because he was so thick, her guilt wasn't enough to have an impact of her attitude. She could be in a relationship, for Heaven's sake, and he wouldn't get the hint. Likewise, she could drop a bomb on his head and he wouldn't regard it as a hostile action. Rather, he probably would mistake it as a sign of affection.

"I'll tell you later," he murmured.

She'd bet anyone anything that he was going to make another attempt. She'd also be more than happy to lose that bet.

"Luke," Clare began, as their teacher left the room. "You know how we're good friends?"

He nodded, giving her his full undivided attention. She'd have to be slightly less subtle than that to get her point across.

"I think it's time to address the elephant in the room," she said, carefully watching him.

Luke stared at her, uncomprehending. "Huh?"

"You know," she said evasively, rocking from side to side. "The…like the…I don't like you in _that _way, okay? I just want to be your friend, that's it."

"Like me in what way?" he inquired confusedly.

Oh dear God. "In the way that I perceive you do," she uncomfortably tried to explain. He continued to gawk. "I don't… Luke, I don't want to go out with you."

It took him one excruciating minute, but he eventually understood. Clare held her breath as that initial flicker reached his eyes, traveling down to his mouth which curved into a slight frown, and then to his merged brows. She could almost hear the realization spinning wheels in his head, finally sinking in after one incredibly long moment of silence.

"Oh. Okay."

He smiled and returned to his work, flipping open his textbook. The sudden movement caused her tendrils to dance a bit from the breeze, and it was almost like a slap in the face. She waited for him to say something else, but he didn't, and acted as if nothing happened.

"Okay," she repeated uncertainly, turning towards her own textbook. This wasn't what she anticipated, but that was fine, she supposed. She couldn't understand how he was so okay with it though, considering he had been abysmally obvious about his feelings for her. Had she been reading him wrong the entire time, or was he just that good of an actor?

She had to be wrong. He couldn't be that good of an actor.

"I think that will be it," Perino announced, glancing at his watch. "Put up your chairs and have a good one, alright?"

Clare obliged, granting Luke one quick smile before rushing out the door to her next class. The last period was fast-approaching, and home time came subsequently after. Concentrating would be hard in her favourite class because of what was to come. Truthfully, Eli hadn't completely erased from her mind since the beginning on the day, and she was still wondering whether she should listen to him. The boy was so painfully cryptic and unpredictable, she couldn't stomach it. The thought of what he would do if she didn't show up made her shiver. During lunch, Ali had even shuddered upon his appearance, more so than she did in regards to his behaviour. In her head, the eyeliner and all-black attire was far more alarming anything than what he'd do or what came out of his mouth. Clare begged to differ.

As she had expected, English consisted of nothing but a drifting mind and impatient fidgeting. Clare was so distracted, she couldn't focus on the words coming out of Dawes's mouth. For a few minutes, they would just barely process, and before she realized it was three o'clock. Everyone was filing out of the room, leaving Clare with no choice but to gather her stuff and follow behind.

Soon she was faced with the choice of going left, or straight ahead. Straight ahead would take her to the front doors, where she's assumingly proceed to walk home. On her left was the way to the library. She moved automatically towards her destination.

When she arrived, he appeared to be in a disagreement with a guy- his face was hardened with pertinacity, despite the other guy's seeming worried expression. His jaw was set like stone, unmovable and unaffected by countless protests. Clare considered moving closer in a stealthy manner to pick up what they were discussing, but he caught her before she reached even four feet of him.

"But Eli," the guy said apprehensively, "he's really stubborn about this. He's determined to-"

"Shut up," Eli hissed, gaze flickering towards Clare, who felt like she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. The guy he was talking to turned around, welcoming her with enlarged eyes.

"Oh! Hi, Rachel!" he said, looking like he was caught doing something sordid. "Didn't see you there."

Clare wrinkled her eyebrows, twisting around to look behind her. Seeing that the hallway was empty, she turned back and tilted her head to the side. "Who's Rachel?"

Eli snorted as the guy cleared his throat anxiously. "It's- who are you again?"

"Not Rachel," she blurted, causing Eli to stifle a snicker. She squinted at him as he raised his fist to his mouth, feigning a subtle cough. "It's Clare. And you are?"

"No one important," Eli cut in, lips still twitching. He stepped in front of the stranger guy, blocking her view of him. "Come on, Clare, let's go."

"I'm important," the guy mumbled in an offended voice. "I- hey, where are you guys going?"

"Home," Eli answered simply.

"Our home, or her home?" the guy called back to clarify, but Eli ignored him.

"He lives with you?" Clare inquired curiously, gripping the stair railing and she made her way down. Eli had to stop quite a bit behind her, and it made her wonder if he was used to going down faster. He probably did, but he didn't say anything.

"Mhmm." His hands found their way to his pockets again.

She waited for more, but he didn't continue. They walked out through the back in silence, Eli leading. She made an observation about this, how he would only walk in front of her or behind her. Never to her side, and always keeping the distance between them respective. Clare watched his boot-clad feet as they crunched the snow beneath like it was sandpaper. Every move is swift and without stuttering or hesitation, like he didn't have to think twice about it. She studied him like she would study a work of art, mostly because she could get away with it. He never turned back once to look at her.

"Do you mind if we take a short detour to the gas station?" he said, peering at his meter as he jammed his keys in the ignition. The little red arrow was dangerously close to the E. "It won't take long."

Clare shook her head. From the rear view mirror, she could see that the jacket she borrowed last time was still there. It was perched on one of the seats, looking warm and inviting.

"You can go get it," he said.

Sometimes, it was scary how intuitive he was.

"It smells like…musk in here," she said musingly, sniffing the air when his jacket was finally rested comfortably on her. "It smells kind of like you."

He pressed his lips together. "I have a smell?"

"Mhm- hmm. You smell like musky cinnamon, like in the woods."

"How nice. I always wanted to smell like a tree."

"Obviously you never smelled a tree before, mister. Or you're not the outdoorsy type. Either way, I'm judging you harshly."

"Oh, silly me for not going around sniffing trees," he smirked, showing some level of interest to what she has to say. "Call the police, will you?"

Clare repressed a smile, only allowing a small curve to form on her lips. From the side, his smirk looked kind of crooked and impish, like he was moderately enjoying their banter. He seemed pleased with her ability to conjure up witty responses, as his sarcasm gave her both half- amusement and an urge to roll her eyes.

"You have a floral scent, did you know?" he said thoughtfully, pulling into a spot. "You remind me of the garden in front of my old house."

Oh, and what a lovely garden it was, having been completely filled with a brilliant assortment of colours and textures. His mothered used to be religious about watering them in a specific way- _thumb over the hose, always! _Eli would sometimes mock her by holding red licorice in that way, pretending to spray the ground with the same stiff posture Mrs. Goldsworthy had when she watered. He would stick out his bum and place a sassy hand on his hip, imitating to perfection.

It shouldn't be something that comes as a surprise to her, how different everything was now, but it does. It strikes her hard every time. And as she looked at him for the umpteenth time, it was like seeing a new person every time. There was sarcastic Eli, callous Eli, snarky Eli, enigmatic Eli, and even remorseful Eli. But where was _goofy _Eli? Where was the Eli would made her laugh and sing on her worst days? _Her _Eli had yet to make an appearance yet, and until then, she wouldn't be one hundred percent comfortable with him.

Clare couldn't just sit around and wait for him to come out anymore.

"Eli, what happened to you?" she asked quietly, before even thinking about the consequences. She shook her head, gazing down at her lap. "How did things turn out this way?"

"What are you talking about, Clare?" he asked softly, still staring ahead.

It was simple. "You turned cold."

And from there, all the valves opened up and everything she had been holding back (yes, there was more!) came pouring out like water out of a broken dam. It was everything she meant to say, if her anger and frustration hadn't gotten the best out of her on the very first day. This was the real stuff. Beneath the anger of betrayal was something else, something far more important,

"Everything about you is broken. The way you talk, the way you even joke…it's like something died inside of you, and it scares me, Eli," she exhaled, closing her eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

But he knew, oh, he knew. Clare was certain he knew.

"You're lying. I can see it in your eyes. "And at this, Eli turned to face his window, sitting in stoic silence. "I'm not mad anymore, if you care. I'm hurt and confused and hurt in a way that won't blow over in a few weeks. I don't know how much more obvious I can make that. Please, talk to me, tell me what went wrong why you're so horribly grim in everything you do. I know I haven't been there for you for the longest time, and I still…still care about you because you were my best friends, and that won't change. Even if you're broken and dead or aged and wrinkly I still want to be there for you, and I can't act like I don't any longer. Just...tell me. Tell me why you left me. Tell me that it was for a good reason."

"I can't," he said bleakly. "I can't, Clare, I'm sorry."

Swallowing through the impossible constriction in her throat, she shook her head. "You can. Please…you can."

She reached over and touched his hand, letting herself know that it was okay that he cringed and pulled away. "Please," she breathed, grasping his fingers more firmly. They were limp and lifeless, urging her to hold them more tightly against her skin. He resisted, not because she was poison, but because he was scared. By the way his shoulders quaked, flinching away from her, he made it seem like he was afraid of damage her.

"No, stop, I can't," he said weakly, gazing at their entwined hands with clouded eyes. "Clare, no."

But she just held onto him more firmly, clutching him with both her hands. He yanked away, an apologetic look in his misty green eyes.

"Fine," she said resolutely, undoing her seatbelt. And so Eli thought- hoped, even- that she was going to leave him. He hoped that she would let him dwell on matters on his own. It was false hope, though, from the moment she bent down and started to roll up her pant leg.

"What are you doing?" he asked, fixated on what she was doing.

"It's too tight," she frowned, rolling it back down when it would not budge any further. Eli frowned as well. "Maybe… could you turn around for a moment, please?"

He obeyed without a thought, now deeply curious as to what she was doing. There were some swishing sounds, the sound of a button popping open and a zipper sliding down, He gulped, stomach twisting horribly at what he immediately thought of. She couldn't be doing what he was thinking.

"Look," she said after a short while, and he turned around to legs. Pale, creamy, legs from the knee down, and pants pooled around her ankle. Her lap was covered with his jacket, which was securely tucked under her for reassurance. _My jacket._

His first instinct was to look away out of respect for her, because even thought it was only her calves exposed to him, it felt very intimate. He had never seen so much bare skin of hers in this way, and so it took some effort to listen to follow her command. Once he did, however, he couldn't look away.

"Look at this," she said gingerly, running a finger over a faint line. It was a very faded scar that seemed to have been created by one quick, swift movement. "You did this."

His jaws dropped. "When?"

She smiled ruefully. "When you yanked my notebook out from under me."

And he did that the first day they met. He remembered everything, from dragging her under the carpet, to Imogen's rude accusation- everything. He defended her that day, and he never then stop. He remembered feeling like it was his job to protect Clare in any given moment, whether it was when a potential threat arose, or when she merely needed someone to play with. He was there for her, just like she had always been there for her.

So why couldn't it be that way again?

"Things have changed. Doesn't mean it has to stay changed." She said gently, taking his fingers and guiding him along the length of her scar. He held his breath, letting his heart skip a couple beats as Clare let go of him, allowing him to stroke the mark he left on his own. It was smooth, lighter than it had been before and barely noticeable, but it didn't change the fact that it was still there and would always be.

And like she said, things can fade. But it doesn't mean they've completely disappeared.

"Okay," he whispered feebly, a voice that was barely audible. "But one step at a time, okay?"

She nodded and squeezed his hand. It was a start.


	5. Chapter 5

"It started after I moved away," Eli began in an unsteady voice, hands clasped together and trembling like he was under questioning. Even from across the table, Clare could see that his body was very stiff- bent over towards her and muscles clenched. "That day when my parents went missing, and the night your dad took me home."

"Thank you," Clare smiled at the waitress, accepting their hot chocolates. That was the only time she tore her gaze away from Eli, as she gently pushed the cup towards him with unwavering eyes. She wrapped her cold hands around the toasty drink, encouraging Eli to do the same. He did, shakingly so. "Were they home?" she inquired patiently, taking a small sip.

Eli shook his head, a shiver rippling down his spine as he remembered the cool vacancy of the house. "I did a little investigation around the house, and they didn't seem to have come home all day. Their shoes were missing still, and nothing was moved."

"But my dad came home shortly after. He said that everything was fine," she frowned.

"I lied. I told him I could hear them upstairs so that he'd leave. Your dad seemed suspicious, but he bought it nonetheless."

"But why? He could have helped you, Eli. He could have called the police or something."

He grimaced, and shook his head again. "It's not his problem."

As Clare paused to mull things over, Eli stared at the stream hovering over the tiny opening of his cup. It was scorching hot, and might have done well to soothe his dry throat, but he didn't want to risk upsetting his stomach further. He already felt quite sick. Recounting every horrible past occurrence leading up to the present was awful enough on its own- added nausea wouldn't be much help. Having Clare sitting a foot away from him didn't help with the sickness either, but that was another story.

It's funny how the one person he wanted to seem the most well-off to was the only one he'd let see in his most fragile state. _Clare Edwards, I hope you're reading to see your rock unravel at the hinges._

"You're not a problem, Eli,"she told him tenderly, smiling sympathetically. It was a pity smile, the kind that made him feel even more like a failure. He was supposed to be reassuring and comforting her- not the other way around. But a smile was still a smile, and it warmed him enough to cease most of the shaking he was doing. It made him feel a little bit more relaxed about doing all of this, reducing the tremors to slight quivering.

"You don't have to say things you don't mean," he said. "I know what I am."

"But you're-"

"Do you want to hear the rest or not?"

She bit her lip, looking displeased, but nodded. Eli waited until she took another delicate sip before continuing.

"I waited for him to drive away before I ran up the stairs," he said pensively, gazing at her tendrils. They looked silky and soft and he faintly wondered how it would feel to bury his hands in them. They were also a light caramel colour, with streaks of auburn that could only be seen in certain lightings. How full of life and prosperity they were, how different they compared to his shaggy, unkempt hair. He was in dire need of a haircut that he never seemed to get around, and it became more evident as he ran his absentminded hand through his hair. "The beds were stripped. Their closets were empty, and so were their bathroom."

"They _fled_?" Clare said in disbelief.

"I called the police later that night. They were halfway to the States by the time they tracked them," he said in a low were cowards, that was all they ever were. But he decided to keep that bit to himself.

"Eli, that must have been so frightening for you!" she gasped, turning pale. "Oh dear, you were only ten at the time, too. I can't imagine…."

She trailed off, looking as if she had just seen a ghost. It was as if he had just told her the most terrifying horror story of all, because to her, it was.

"It's not _that _bad," he shrugged, only half-lying. He forgot how sheltered Clare was, what with her picture-perfect family and minimal exposure to neglect and such. To affirm, he did not think of this in a bitter, envious way- he liked that she didn't have to go through what he did. To him, at the very least, it was a good that one of them was fortunate enough to not have been abandoned.

Well, abandoned in _that _way, he supposed. Eli bit his thumbnail, the guilt flooding through him.

"I'm so sorry, I understand you now, Eli. I shouldn't have judged you so severely, I shouldn't have been so upset with you," she poured out in distress, palming her cheeks. "And here I was, thinking you have voluntarily left me…oh, I was so selfish!"

"Please don't be sorry, you couldn't have known," he implored, suddenly desperate to alleviate her remorse. "I can't do this if all you're going to do is feel bad. It's not your fault."

Clare anxiously raked through her hair, gnawing her lower lip harder. "Did you find out why they left?" she asked worriedly, neglecting to take consideration of what he said.

"Yes. They didn't want anything to do with-but no, no, it's not as bad as you think!" he hurried to add, seeing the horror dawn on her face. "I should have seen it coming. They hadn't wanted me in the longest time, remember?"

Clare buried her face in her hands, making it evident that Eli had only worsened the matter. "I don't think there could be anything more awful than waking up to that, regardless of whether you anticipated it or not. Oh, Goodness, Eli…."

"The police were nice to me, though," he said, anxiously wracking his brain for some good piece to throw out there. _Guiltguiltguilt. Oh my God, are those tears? Nononono, come on Eli, get your shit together. _"They gave me doughnuts and hung around until things were a bit more settled," he said pathetically, wishing he had something better to say. _They gave me a purple unicorn too. Theoretically, of course. _He couldn't do it. He couldn't lie his ass off like he'd trained himself to do all these years, just because of a few pesky little tears. _Clare's_ tears, though. They were still his fucking weakness.

Clare peeked at him through the cracks between her fingers. "You hate doughnuts."

"Hate is strong word," he jabbered, smiling fakely for effect. Part of him was surprised that she had remembered such a trivial preference of his, as the larger part of him was panicking. Red flags were waving in his brain, flashing and urging him to do something. Clare was becoming sad on his accord- no, Clare was becoming sad as a whole, and he couldn't stand it. _The tears, damn it!_ How does he make them stop?! "I don't particularly _like _doughnuts, but it was still a nice gesture," he clarified. "They even helped me pack my stuff and all before they took me away-"

"They took you _away?_" she repeated in aghast. "Where did they take you?"

"To find a new home, but Clare, don't freak out please," he begged, wringing his wrists nervously. His underarms were perspiring cold sweat. "It was a group home in another town, and-"

At the words _group home, _she inhaled sharply, looking stricken. She knew only vaguely of group homes, and how they were like- her mom's cousin grew up in one, and she was just about the more unpleasant person to be around. How terrible it must have been for him, being forced to leave his own house and live with a bunch of strangers! Strangers who, according to her aunt Kathy, would steal your thing s if you weren't on your toes twenty-four seven. There were also inadequate meals- Kathy was frighteningly thin, with a ghastly complexion and sunken eyes, nothing unlike Eli. And prior to that, discovering that your parents have left the country without a good-bye or anything. It was no wonder the boy had turned cold- his life had been nothing but a series of unfortunate changes happening like dominos. She couldn't imagine something remotely similar happening to herself, and she had been so used to taking the love she received for granted. A mom and dad who would willingly abandon their own child…how could it be that such a thing exists? Everything was like a slap in the face, and to top it all off, she was discovering this all seven years later.

"That was the wrong way to put it- it wasn't a _group home_ in the way that you might think, it was more of a, uhm- well, technically it was a group home, but it was a very good one! They were beds and everything. There was a busy kitchen running all day long, lots of people my age- it was like one big family when you think about it," Eli rambled on.

"I know what I group home is," she said, twiddling het thumbs and trying to process. "What was the worst part about it?"

"The worst part?" he hedged, ignoring the collective images of worst flashing in his head. "Uhm, probably…the uhm…"

"Wait, hold up," Clare said, as Eli let out a tiny breath of relief. "Which home was it?"

Easily, he told her the name, feeling quite certain that she wouldn't have heard of it. It was out of town, and Clare, he had to assume, probably didn't know very much about these things.

"It was cozy," he continued, picking up a bit more confidence in his fibbing. "Nice people, and-"

"You're lying," she whispered, staring straight at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"My aunt grew up there. She told me all about it. You're…sugar-coating it, Eli," she accused softly.

He paled, and she knew.

_Creaking floor boards._

_Spider webs on every corner._

_Cockroaches scattering across the bedroom floors._

_Cabbage soup and stale pumpernickel every fucking meal._

_Filthy kids._

_Blankets and sheets that smelled like the rotten remains of an animal._

Just like Kathy had described in gory detail.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, breaking the dragged-out, tension-filled silence between them. His frozen muscles snapped into gear, and he abruptly stood up. "I…sorry."

He took one, hard stare at impenetrable blue eyes, and turned to leave the booth. It was because he didn't know what else to say.

Or maybe he was a coward, just like his parents.

-x—

She had to wonder what she was doing, sitting there all alone and dazed like she'd just been slapped in the face. Though she couldn't think of a better way to describe how it felt- it truly felt like his handprint was left there on her cheek, stinging, throbbing, and numb at the same time. It took her a while to let it sink in. It took some time for the stinging to fade.

It didn't, for the record, but she ran out the door anyways.

He had already covered so much ground, and so many people were walking down the sidewalk acting as barricades between them both. Clare could still see him, and that was enough to get her pulse quickening. Her heart accelerated in spontaneity. Her feet suddenly understood what they had to do, and she took off racing down the busy walkway of Toronto.

She dodged people after people in her urgency to reach him, murmuring breathy 'excuse me's and 'sorry's to the five hundred she bumped into along the twenty foot pavement. No, she couldn't patiently wait for the mother with three kids in a stroller to leisurely pass along, and the elder man could hobble along out of her way. Eli was getting closer to his car, and so she picked up her speed- her legs pumped harder and harder, zig- zagging and making sharp turns until-

_Thud._

"What the-?"

Eli stumbled forwards, nearly losing his footing as Clare rammed into him. She threw her arms around his body, mashing her face against the back of his coat. It was a slightly awkward position, him with his arms hovering in the air and inability to see the face of the rapist with short arms mauling him. By instinct he twisted around, but Clare refused to loosen her grip enough so that he had some personal space to do so.

"Clare?" he croaked, instantly recognizing the mass of curly hair under his chin.

She burrowed deeper into his chest, tightening her hold on him. The way his body stiffened, then relaxed, but then stiffened again made it obvious that he wasn't used to getting hugs. It felt foreign against him.

It made him crumble a little.

"My mom said that hugs don't cure everything," she said gingerly, feeling his steady heartbeat through his coat. His breathing was deep and loud. "But I hope it'll help just a little bit."  
Eli sucked in a ragged breath, closing his eyes and letting his arms drop to the side. Could a measly hug eradicate every painful memory associated with his childhood? Could it give him loving parents who wouldn't run away? No, it couldn't. A hug couldn't do anything. It was simply a hug, and nothing more.

"A hug doesn`t do anything Clare," he said morosely, closing his eyes. "It's like watering a dead plant."

"That's because you're not doing it properly," she said gently, tilting her head upwards. "I can't do this alone."

"I can't-"

"Yes you can," she encouraged in the same soft, patient tone. "Try."

"It's been so long," he evaded in a bit of a whine. "I-I might not do it right."

Eli scrunched his shoulders, hoping to make him smaller and more insignificant. He was acting childish, he knew, but that was exactly what he was- a child. People always seemed to forget that deep down, Eli was just a frightened little boy who was scared of love and loving and being loved. He was afraid to touch what has failed him time after time after time. He was also afraid because Clare saw this, right through his dark exterior and many layers of cynicism. Because behind that, what was he really besides pale skin and bones?

When Clare looked at him, she saw what was lost but still lingering. The boy hadn't died completely, at least not yet.

"You can," she insisted, and with a coy smile she added, "you just have to be as willing as I was when you taught me how to kiss."

A low chuckle escaped his lips, one of which stopped almost immediately after it begun. A wide grin couldn't help but spread through Clare's face, accompanying eyes of shock. Her expression was followed by relief- _oh good, he didn't forget how to laugh._

"I remember that," he said shyly, swaying from side to side.

"Mhmm. For a ten-year old, you had such extensive knowledge of the technicalities."

"Your dad almost had a conniption watching us too," he added thoughtfully.

"He missed you when you were gone, you know," she said tenderly. "We all did."

"There's nothing to miss," he said, averting his gaze.

"That's because you're here to stay, right?"

Eli looked at her again, swallowing deeply.

And then he brought his arms around her, because for right now, it would be a good enough answer.

-x—

Helen turned off the stove and proceeded to scrape the mixture of peas and carrots off the pan and into a serving plate. It was six-twenty, and dinner was going to start later than usual. She worked as slowly as she could, hoping to ensure that the food would stay as warm as possible for when her husband and daughter came home from work as school. Supper typically began at six. The table would be set two minutes beforehand by Clare. It was twenty minutes past that, but no one was back yet. Helen Edwards was getting rather agitated, as here she was, slaving over a hot stove to prepare only the best home-cooked meal for her family when said family had neglected to even inform her of their tardiness. Not a single call or text, and she was getting worried.

When the leftover brown rice had finished heating up in the microwave, she heard keys on the other side of the front door jangle against the lock. Would it be her husband, or would it be her daughter? Whoever it wasn't, he or she would be getting extra peas tonight.

"Something smells like chicken," a voice said hungrily, setting down a briefcase with a dull thud.

"You're late," she said a bit irritably. "Did you have a meeting after work again?"

"No, traffic was especially bad tonight. Sometime after five, it started to snow, and I haven't gotten my winter tires in yet. Is Clare home yet?"

Helen shook her head, fretting over the state of the weather. "I wonder what's holding her up."

No sooner had she said the words, the sound of footsteps banging off snow outside was heard. Clicking her tongue and dismissing her worries, Helen strode over to save her the trouble of taking out her keys, getting ready to scold Clare for her lateness. The girl was past curfew, and she better have a good explanation for it.

"-be fine. I- oh, hi mom," Clare greeted in surprise, having not expected her to open the door so quickly. "Were you waiting for me?"

But Helen paid no attention to her daughter, not her ruddy cheeks, the snow collected atop of her head, nothing. Her eyes were immediately directed towards the person slightly behind her, using her momma-bear sense to distinguish between a trusted friend, or something of the opposite. She narrowed her eyes at once, instantly sceptical when she realized it was a boy.

"Clare, who's your friend?" she asked somewhat critically, disliking the proximity between him and her daughter. The boy's hair was too long for her liking, and his all-black ensemble was rather daunting. It wasn't someone she'd been before.

"Oh, you don't recognize him?" Clare said esoterically, sharing a look with the mysterious boy. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I don't think I've seen him before," Helen said defiantly, folding her arms across her chest.

"Hello Mrs. Edwards," he said vaguely, taking one hand out of his pocket to give a small wave. He looked to Clare again, who told him something with her eyes that Helen couldn't understand. The two seemed to be very good at this, silently communicating through glances. It only heightened her suspicion, and she had a half a mind to send him away.

"What's your name?" Helen asked firmly, eyeing him with a concrete gaze.

"Eli, Mam."

"Well, Eli I- wait a minute." Her eyes enlarged to the size of her dinner plate.

"Who is it, Helen?" Randall called from the kitchen, busying piling on more chicken on his rice.

"It's Eli," Clare answered. Again, Eli looked at her, as if seeking reassurance. Clare just shook her head and stepped inside gesturing him to do the same.

The kitchen chair screeched against the floor, and Randal came hurrying into the foyer. "Eli _Goldsworthy_?" he clarified in disbelief, turning to a shocked Helen. "You're….you're back?"

"Is it okay if he stays for dinner?" Clare requested, paying no notice to their looks of utter incredulity. She just kicked her boots off and peeled off her jacket, doing what she would normally do even if there wasn't someone at her tail. Eli, however, didn't do quite as good of a job as acting like this was customary and just stayed close to the doorway with his shoes and coat still on. He didn't seem as sure of this as Clare was.

"I don't have to stay, I don't want to impose," Eli said quickly, starting to reach for the doorknob. "I just came to drop off Clare."

"No, Eli- mom, please?"

Clare shot a look of obstinacy to Helen, one that said very clearly that she would explain later. It was just an evening of non-verbal communication.

Except maybe not for Randal, who didn't view Eli's unannounced return as a good nor bad thing.

"Why don't you come on in and take off your jacket Eli?" He said welcomingly, sliding open the coat closet. "And let's eat before the food get's cold."

"Come on," Clare encouraged, tugging on one of his fingers. But Eli didn't look at her this time. He only looked at Helen, who seemed to be the only Edwards with reluctance evident on her face. It unnerved him, and so he just shook his head.

"I should be getting home anyways," he excused himself, "but thanks anyways. It was nice seeing you again, Mr. and Mrs. Edwards. I'll see you at school Clare."

"But…."

He mouthed the words _I'm sorry_ to her, giving her a sad smile. "Bye," he said, holding the door ajar for a second before exiting through it. It closed quietly and silently.

"Clare Edwards, what was that?" Helen demanded as soon as Eli was out of the earshot.

But Clare ignored her and walked to the living room, peering out the window to watch him. She watched him cross the driveway and get into the car, watched as he started the engine and as the lights flashed on. She didn't know what compelled her to stare at him leave, or why she sat cross-legged in that old armchair as he car drove away. And even after he was long gone, she sat there and stared. She just hoped he wouldn't keep her waiting again.


	6. Chapter 6

**...My excuse is that I've had practice every morning for the past few weeks, and because the season won't end until February, infrequent updates is going to be of the norm. Please forgive me. D;**

**This chapter, like practically every other chapter I've ever uploaded, has not been thoroughly edited, and that's just because I haven't got a whole lot of time for fan fiction anymore. Thank you so much to anyone who had been patient with me, I love you more than I love shirtless Eli scenes. :)**

**Reviews are super-duper appreciated !  
**

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An entire hour past by after the door had shut.

Then another.

Then another.

There was a nostalgic fear, if that was the right way to describe it, creeping up and making the hairs on her arms stand. A startling sense of Déjà vu swept past her, stealing her breath, keeping it captive for longer than she'd like, before handing it back to her in one swift motion. Her lungs filled with and released air in an inconsistent pace, and for the first time, she felt like she didn't' have any control over her bodily actions. She was worried, and she'd admit that. But she was also scared that it'd happen again.

"Honey, you've been sitting there for hours," Helen said wearily, setting down her cup of warm tea on the coffee table. She wrapped her robe tighter around her body, narrowing her eyes at Clare's school attire. "Eli's probably home by now."

The word _home _struck a nerve, and she recoiled like she had been hit. What other "_home" _was there for him? This was his home here, the one he just left. And she was scared because he might not come back again. She wouldn't be able to handle him leaving a second time, not after all that had happened. He couldn't. She couldn't.

"I know," Clare said, continuing to stare out the window, staring with the same blank look on her face as when she started. It was a forced expression, one of vacancy that she learned so well how to do. Helen screwed her lips to the side, obviously displeased by her behaviour.

"Then will you please get changed and go to bed now?" she asked exasperatedly. "You have school tomorrow."

Clare flinched again, taking in her tone of voice. "Mom, why'd you scare him away?" Clare asked brazenly, dismissing her mother's irritable request. "Why did you have to act like that?"

"I didn't act like anything," Helen said defiantly, folding her arms across her chest. "The boy merely arrived uninvited, and that is something I perceived as being quite rude."

Clare finally tore her gaze away, gaping at her mother in disbelief. "I invited him. You've never had a problem with me brining home friends before."

"So he's your friend now, is he?" she said tightly, still maintaining a superior position by standing before her.

"We were _going_ to be, until you ruined it all. You made him feel like a….a…" _Intruder. Burden. Basically everything he felt guilty about being for the past seven year, and basically everything I tried to convinced him he's not. You hit him right where it hurt most, and you don't even know. _"You made him feel like he was imposing and he wasn't."

"I did not intentionally try to make him feel bad, Clare, you know that."

"But you did! You have no idea what he's been through, and you're not making it any easier on him," she argued hotly, getting to her feet. Defensive anger seemed to flare out of nowhere as she matched Helen's stance, feeling an intensified duty to defend him. She didn't know any of it, and she had no right to judge him.

Helen sighed and rubbed small circles on her temples, feeling a migraine coming on. Though it wasn't that Clare and herself often got into disagreements and disputes; on the contrary, they had a wonderful mother-daughter relationship, built on effective communication and unconditional love. They rarely bumped heads. But Clare, as they both knew, could be undeniably pertinacious. Especially when it came to Eli.

And that was exactly why Helen didn't want that boy around her again.

"Honey, do you really want to be his friend again?" she asked calmly. "After all he's done to you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Clare, dear, you have to try to understand where I'm coming from," Helen said patiently, wearily. "From a mother's point of view. How would you feel, having to see your daughter go through years of disappointment? What would you do if she was hurting badly, and there was nothing you could do except wait and tell her it's okay?"

Clare looked down, slightly defeated. "Helpless, I suppose."

"And to see her make the same mistake again…" she shook her head, looking aged, older somehow. The lines around her eyes were more prominent, as if weighed down by experience. "Would you just stand by? After you've seen her break and burn before your very eyes?"

"Mom, that's not fair. It's not what you think." Clare protested.

"Well, then I'll tell you what I think," she said, placing a hand on Clare's shoulder. "I think that I can't stop you from seeing him, but I can tell you that I don't think it's a very good idea. I'm not going to force you to do anything."

"But?"

"_But, _nothing. I'll trust that you make the right choice. You're a big girl now, you can make these decisions now," Helen said firmly, gathering Clare in her arms. She patted her back and sighed. "I know you're older now, but I'm afraid you'll go back into being that same little girl who wouldn't budge from that armchair. Staring out the window, waiting for the boy to come back…"

"It won't happen again, I promise," she assured her, hoping to assuage her concern. Her mom had a point, but she needn't know that. "Just trust me, okay?"

"It's not you I don't trust," Helen murmured worriedly, holding her daughter a closer. "I wish you didn't feel the need to put yourself through this again, honey."

Clare said nothing, knowing that any more attempts to persuade her mom would be futile. She just leaned into her hug and bit her lip. Maybe if she stayed quiet, the guilt would too.

-x—

_**Eight days later**_

Eli slammed the cupboard door closed after glaring at its barren state, and then proceeded to open the fridge. It, too, was empty, as was the freezer and the shelves. There was absolutely no food left in the house, and no one had bothered to make a quick trip to the grocery store.

"Drew," Eli groaned, frustrated. "It's your turn to buy food."

Drew came ambling in the kitchen, scratching his head. His perpetually confused expression aggravated Eli even more, only because he couldn't get mad at him for forgetting again. Just like how you couldn't get angry at an incompetent person for being incompetent, Drew was one of the few rare individuals who was always short a few marbles in his collection. Rolling his eyes at his bare torso and ruffled nap-hair, Eli dismissed him with a shake of his head. It was a really fortune thing that he was good-looking.

"Sorry, want me to go now?" he yawned, stretching like a cat. As Eli opened his mouth to speak, Drew hiccupped loudly, as if the stretching had triggered an irritation in his diaphragm. He mashed his eyebrows together in mystification, than hiccuped again.

"It's fine, I'll do it," Eli said resignedly, reaching over to the coat slung over a chair. "What do you want?"

"Fro-_hic!-_zen pizza," Drew said immediately, lighting up like a Christmas tree. "With pepperoni and all that good –_hic!- _stuff."

Eli nodded, grabbing his car keys off of the counter. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Wait! I-_hic!-_ need to –_hic!-" _Drew hiccuped, running over to block the door.

"What? Can you drink some water or something?" Eli said irritably.

Drew bobbed his head up and rushed over to the sink. He filled his cup to the brim and chugged it down, wiping his mouth after he was done.

"_Ahhhhhhhh_."

A few seconds ticked by.

"Anyway," he said, as if nothing had happened, "I wanted to ask you if you and Dallas had cleared up this whole Clare business."

At the sound of her name, Eli's teeth gritted alongside with a million other emotions in his chest.

"Why? Did he say anything?"

"Not really," Drew shrugged. "I was just wanted to know if you two are over it. You and Dallas haven't really spoken in days, and it's getting kind of awkward around the house."

Eli thought grimly about the situation. It seems as if everyone is hoping that things would gradually turn back to normal, and that they would go back to being somewhat civil with each other. The odd times where all of them were at the house were odd, to say the least. He went about his regular routines, ignoring Dallas like he was a piece of furniture as he did the same to him. The only time Dallas had ever directly addressed him was to ask if he was going to be home for the weekend. Eli curtly responded by saying that as long as nobody went into his room, they could party for as long as they wanted. It was a Saturday of headphones and annoyingly loud pop music, and by some miracle not a drunken pair burst through his door in hopes of doing the deed on his bed. The pillows stuffed under his door helped to muffle most of the screaming and banging downstairs, although there was that unbearably hour when a couple next door could be heard from through the walls. It was at the moment that he learned, that there was indeed something worst than _Rihanna. _

He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but after the couple had finished up and went back downstairs, he marched right out and entered the used room. Of course there were unmade bed sheets and some clothing article left on the floor, but there was also beer bottles sitting right on the nightstand. Unopened, pristine bottles filled with alcohol that had been neglected due to the only things that could possibly be better than drinking. It was a stressful night, trying to get his homework done with a party going on downstairs, and he just wanted to unclench a bit. A few swigs would have helped a lot that was all it really was.

But a few swigs turned into a few more swigs, which ultimately turned into a whole bottle. Because with every quaff came an image of Clare in his head, each outdated because he hadn't directly looked at her in a week. He hallucinated her smiling and waving with fuzziness outlining her profile, then frowning and calling out to him. Every time it would be her reaching out to him, telling him that she missed him. When in reality he was the one who missed her.

Eli blinked, suddenly aware of Drew's faraway voice and his growling stomach.

"I'll be back soon," he said distantly, manoeuvring past him and leaving without looking back.

The coolness of the frozen food section and wide selection of pizzas was enough to distract for a little while, and Eli took his time pushing his cart along the freezers. He stopped every now and again to drop a box in his shopping cart, not caring too much that he was crushing the bags of chips he's earlier tossed haphazardly in. He wasn't a fussy person; not a care was given even when the large bottles of Coke smashed everything underneath. The thinly-packaged food pleaded for mercy under the massive weight of the one-litre soda bottle, but not a damn was given. It was a wonder how he managed to get here with that attitude, or how he floored his car to nearly double the speed limit just to make that yellow light twenty feet away. Yes sir, Eli Goldsworthy was just that guy who didn't give a damn about anything. The girl in the next aisle peering at a bag of milk was just an exception he wasn't expecting to run into.

Honestly contemplating whether or not he just ditch his cart and flee, Eli stood like a deer in headlights staring at her face. She hadn't noticed him yet, and he just might make it out alive- only, where would he go? He could duck into the aisle he was just in, but there was a whole family of children and parents strolling towards him and there was no way through them. A bead of panicked sweat was rolling down his temple, and he knew he had to think quickly.

Of all the grocery stores in the area, she _had _to be in this one. As Clare heaved the milk bag onto her basket, Eli acted instinctively and dove to the right.

"_Maybe we could walk….at seaside_," she sang softly to herself, blissfully unaware of the alarmed boy hidden behind a tower of olive oil. The ear buds she had on certainly gave Eli a greater chance of escaping unscathed and he intended to use it. As soon as she picked up a tub of yogurt, Eli seized the opportunity and stealthily slinked off. He was safe now, and could just walk around to check his things off.

But oh, no, he should've known. He should've known that he was screwed from the second he saw her. All he could think about now were the slouchy grey sweatpants and pink sweatshirt she had on, and how she seemed to carry herself. This girl, the one probably choosing plain yogurt over mixed berry because she hated fruit and yogurt together, regardless of how ordinary she looked, was anything but ordinary. This girl held him up like a puppet master would hold his puppet, influencing his every move and thought process. Clare had him wrapped around her finger and she didn't even know it.

And so he stayed for a little while, watching her reading the ingredients on certain foods and listening to her quiet singing. He watched her carry herself in this small world, engrossed by the little sound she would make when she sneezed or how she'd tuck a strand of hair behind her ear when it got it the way. He couldn't understand it- what about her was so special? Why was it that he couldn't stop thinking about her?

Sighing, he turned around to leave. He was just making it harder on himself, anyways.

Before he knew it, though, he was being pelted by cereal boxes that his shoulder had knocked over. Fucking cereal boxes shouldn't even be in the frozen food section, and yet here they were, making his life that much more miserable. It was a painfully destructive fall, not to mention, embarrassingly loud. Cursing violently under his breath, he made the second mistake of the day- and again, he deserved all the fucking awards for this- and looked directly at Clare. Who was looking right back at him.

"Fuck my life," he grumbled, wishing he could evaporate into thin air. "Fuck my fucking life.

And then, she was gone. She probably left in a hurry after realizing that he was creeping on her.

"I really shouldn't be helping you up," she sighed, suddenly in front. Her hands were suddenly grasping his, pulling him to his feet. "But you're making a big mess of things, and that lady behind you wants to buy a cereal box."

Eli craned his neck, and sure enough, he saw a slightly frightened old lady, looking from his sprawled position to the boxes strewn across the floor. She appeared to be deciding whether or not it was worth getting across the chaos for a measly box.

"Which one did you want?" Clare asked kindly, smiling apologetically at the lady.

"The Cheerios, dear," she smiled back. Clare handed it to her. "Thank you."

"You don't need to do that, it's my mess," Eli said, as she started to pile cereal back neatly. He winced, the dull ache in the neck more evident as he tried to straighten his back.

"No offence but I don't really trust you with this," she said briefly, continuing with her ministrations. Eli stifled a humourless snort.

"So what brings you to the grocery store?" he asked, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. He obligated to say something, as it felt rude to just walk away while she was cleaning up for him.

"I'm not here to make small talk Eli. Or rather, like yourself, I'm not here to talk at all."

Ouch. That stung. He deserved it, but it still hurt. He wouldn't apologize for it, though.

"Well, thanks for helping then."

As she nodded, Eli turned on his heel before he could change his mind.

-x—

He turned to leave without much contemplation, and her heart ached for him from across the room. Clare wished he wouldn't walk away so easily. She wished he wouldn't be leaving her in the middle of the cold tile floors, with a basket of grocery in her hand and dozens of people staring at her and her vacant gaze. Most of all, she wished he would stop avoiding her because she missed him.

"Wait," she said, widening her eyes and clamping a hand over her mouth immediately after she spoke. But the damage was done, and Eli turned around on cue.

The façade was shut down, and Clare would be initiating interaction for the umpteenth time.

"Yes?" he arched an eyebrow.

She should be mad. She should have him groveling at her feet and apologizing for his behaviour.

"Can you…come somewhere with me?" she asked timidly, shifting from side to side. Of course that would never happen. Eli would always have the upper hand, simply because Clare needed him for than he needed her. She could never permanently stay mad at him, and that could be okay if he didn't give her such a hard time.

He looked at her, his gaze searing a hole in her eyes.

"No."

And then he turned away again, walking away like it hadn't taken Clare all her courage to ask that.

She flinched, the brusqueness of his retort making her feel a million times smaller and insignificant. _Mom was right_, she thought wretchedly, staring pathetically at the back of his head. The sting of rejection attacked her chest, prickling her veins and stealing strength from her legs. Her knees buckled weakly, and tears began to pool. Helen was right about Eli, and she felt horribly mistaken for thinking better of him. _It's happening all over again._

Her first instinct was to the drop her food and run out the store before the tears got too out of hand. She yearned to ball up under the quilt of her bed, pathetic and trivial in the way that she was. Her parents would be home today, so she'd have to keep her sobs to a minimum- Helen could not under any circumstances find out just how deep she had gotten herself, and not just because she wanted to avoid a sympathetic I-told-you-so lecture, nor because she could not handle having to explain everything to her. There was no doubt in her mind that her mom would take it upon herself to march straight to Eli's house and give him a stern talking-to, and that was just be more humiliation Clare didn't. Her mom couldn't fight her battles.

It wasn't too late to call him back. She could wipe her tears and refuse to take no for an answer.

But she wouldn't, because the ball was on his court now.

-x—

Screw balls and courts.

The more Clare thought about it, the harder it was to concentrate on anything she was doing. She glared at him from behind the glass of the library, chemistry homework forgotten on the table. Eight days she survived. Then it was nine. Before she knew it, it was fourteen, a grand total of two weeks that he acted like they were strangers.

"Clare, what are you-"Luke looked startled as she abruptly stood up, chair screeching against the floor and piercing the hushed confinement. The librarian gave her a dirty look.

"I'll be right back," she murmured carelessly, fixated on her target. Clare shoved the heavy glass door open like it was a sheet of paper, striding towards him with determination in her step.

"Hey," she said shortly, blocking the entrance to the stairwell. "Can we talk?"

Eli regarded her like he would a salesperson, casting a cursory glance at her. "I'm busy."

"Doing what?" she asked challengingly, folding her arms across her chest. He was carrying another King novel, but was walking at a leisurely pace. He was in no apparent rush to get anywhere, and this aggravated Clare even more.

He held up his book. "Reading."

And just like that, he pivoted and strode past her without further explanation.

-x—

It was day sixteen on count, and Eli was sitting under a large snowy tree during lunch. The ice under his black jeans must have left frostbites on his bum, but he sat comfortably like it was sand on a beach. The hands loosely holding his novel were pale, but not red like anyone would expect in minus-six degrees temperature. Not a hat nor scarf nor pair nor gloves were worn, and yet he never shivered once. Clare approached him with her hands in her coat pocket, and sat next to him without saying anything at first.

He licked his lips, flipping his page.

"What about now?" she asked, hoping he would have a better response if she was less angry.

Eli shut his hardcover and tucked it neatly into his book bag. He rummaged through the contents of his bag, leaving Clare to patiently wait before he pulled out a black knit hat. She merged her brows together, slightly confused. She watched as he fiddled with it for a bit, adjusting the opening and squeezing the tiny pom-pom at the top.

"I figured you would neglect dressing warmly again," he said pragmatically, gingerly placing the beanie atop her head. Like it was the most natural thing to do, he brushed the curls framing her face aside, focusing on keeping her ears nice and warm.

Before she could thank him, he stood up and walked away again.

-x—

On the eighteenth day, after watching each one of her attempts crumble in failure, Clare had nothing left of her dignity to lose. This was it. She was going over to his house, and if he refused her again, it would be the last time she'd ever talk to him again. She felt strangely relieved at this, knowing that after today she'd be set free like a big bird out of a small cage. Christmas break was rapidly approaching, and the New Year held prospect. After almost three weeks of being cruelly ignored, she was starting to get used to living without Eli again, and needless to say, she felt confident that it was going to be okay. Whatever happened today, would happen. She had to thank him for being so consistent with his indifference; there was not a single moment where he gave himself away, and she supposed it was a good thing. There were no other feelings to take into account other than her own, and while she'd have to live with wondering what had changed between them, it would be better than the hell she underwent.

She wonder how good she was at lying to herself.

She knocked on the door, calming down her anxiousness with a couple of deep breath intakes. _It would be okay,_ she convinced herself. After all, he didn't need her anymore. Rather, he never did, so she had no reason to be too upset. She had to take responsibility for her emotions.

The door swung open, and surprise registered in her mind. It was a long time since they've been face-to-face.

"Dallas?"


	7. Chapter 7

**whAt? An update? Yessir, I imagine that after a terribly long hiatus, nobody is expecting this. Not even myself. I'm sorry if you come across any poor grammatical errors, I didn't bother to edit the whole thing. If I did, I probably wouldn't be updating until next year, which would be awful considering how many weeks all of you have waited already. Thank you for staying faithful to this story though, and thank you for the almost-100 review! Even if it's only a sentence, I hold every respond dear to me. :))**

** I don't know when I'll update again, but let's hope it'll be before the break ends!**

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One of his wiry, muscular arms rested against the door jam, hovering over her. The other was busy wiping sweat off his brow, as it was evident that he had just been interrupted in an intense workout. The grey tank top clung to his upper body from perspiration, and the smell emitting from him resembled that of the boys change room at Degrassi. Clare wrinkled her nose and craned her neck, meeting his quirked eyebrow and questioning look.

"Clare Edwards. To what do I owe this pleasure?" He dipped his head back and chugged loads of water from his plastic bottle, stepping backwards to let her in. A wave of heat rushed to meet her, soothing her icy red nose and feeling heavenly against her frosty skin. It was quite dark inside, the only source of light coming from down the stairs. She assumed he was the only one home at the moment.

For a second, Clare considered turning back before she got into too much trouble- after all, everything about Mike Dallas was trouble. But that would just take her back home, back to her wistful thinking and moping. She didn't come all the way here for nothing, and she really didn't have much to lose anymore.

"I forgot you lived with him," she said pensively, a tinge of sadness lacing through her voice. She stepped inside the house for the very first time, feeling strangely out of herself when the door shut behind her. There was certainly a lack of Christmas decorations in this household, as there was nothing but plain beiges walls to greet her. No one really bothered with trees of lights, and this saddened her a bit. Her own home was flooded with bright scarlet stockings and sparkly ornaments, and she'd grown so accustomed to seeing red and green adorning every corner. "I'm uh, sorry for showing up here unannounced. I just wanted to see if…"

"He stepped out a few hours ago," he said intuitively, taking her in. Clare immediately felt self-conscious under his scrutiny, but it was too late to turn back now."You're looking for Eli, aren't you?"

"It's certainly not the other way around," she murmured, pressing her lips together. His name sent a painful pang to her heart, and so she looked around in an attempt to distract herself.

"You guys in a lovers' quarrel?" he grinned, grabbing a towel from the arm of a chair. As he wrung himself dry, he jerked his head inward towards the house, gesturing her to walk in with him. Cautiously Clare obliged, taking a seat on one of the dining chairs while he scoured through the cupboards.

"No," she said, coming out more sour than intended. The word 'lovers' struck a nerve with her, and Dallas put up his palms in mock- defence. She twiddled her thumbs, the bitter taste of rejection still fresh on her tongue.

"So what happened?"

"It's nothing," she said, eyeing the hot chocolate- powder he was scooping into a mug. It was white, which struck as quite odd- her suspicion were rested aside when she read the word 'vanilla' on the front. "I actually should be getting home now."

"Whatever's happening between you and Goldsworthy, I'm pretty sure it's not nothing," he subtly rolled his eyes.

"Don't presume to tell me what's going on between us, because I can assure you that it's nothing," Clare said acerbically. Another nerve. He was good at this.

"Oh yeah?" he said, sounding amused. "Then why are you looking for him?"

Point taken. Clare twisted her lips to the side, at a loss for words for the first time in her life. "It's really none of your business."

Dallas smirked and said nothing, knowing that he had gotten to her.

"What are you doing there?"

"Edwards never seen hot chocolate before?" he joked, continuing to grin broadly at her. When she didn't respond, he added "obviously you're upset about something, and I'm pretty sure you didn't come all this way for nothing."

"What's your point?" she asked, thinking about how weird it was to be carrying a conversation with the guy who basically threatened to take her virginity all those weeks ago. Or was it months…? Time was hard to tell right now, and things have definitely changed.

He set the warm mug under her nose, and whipped the towel over his shoulder.

"I'm going to help you unwind a bit. You looked like you were about to explode from the moment you got in here, and I think I can help you with that."

-x—

Oooh, no. _No, no, no, no, no_.

She should be home right now. She should be studying in her room, rubbing her hands and cozying up next to a toasty fireplace. Brewing a cup of green tea in the kitchen, watching movies on her laptop. She should be doing anything but _this_.

Who was Clare Edwards, trailing behind Mike Dallas like a lost puppy? She should have turned back the second he mentioned the word _Ravine, _but for some reason her vigilance was skewed by a foggy haze in her brain. Her heartbeat quickly began to accelerate as she stumbled out of his car, squinting at a building she'd never seen before. Her senses were heightened greatly; she suddenly felt as if she was flying inside of walking.

"Where are we?" she asked, fanning herself from the sudden wave of heat hitting her body. It was still winter and there was still snow on her ground, but her skin felt like it was scorching.

"You'll like it," Dallas winked, coming around to wrap his arm around her waist.

He led her inside, where it was dark and crowded and where music was blaring through the massive sound systems up front. There must have been hundreds of people packed inside, all dancing and drinking their day away with flushed-faces and unkempt hair. The distinct noise of people vomiting could be heard from somewhere deep inside, but Clare was so preoccupied by the flashing lights, she couldn't concentrate on anything but.

"Welcome to the Ravine, Edwards," he said smoothly, grinning widely at her. "I suppose this is your first time?"

Clare bobbed her head up and down, eyes still trailing the moving pink spotlight. It was a pretty fuchsia colour.

"Come on, let's go meet some of my friends," he said, guiding her in. His hand sat dangerously low on her back, just itching to travel lower and lower as she stumbled alongside of him. She missed his smirk of triumph when he successfully twined his finger around the loop of her jeans, pulling her closer against his body.

_Poor Clare, disoriented and blissfully unaware of what she had gotten herself into._

"Milligan, you remember Edwards?" Dallas thumped on the back of a taller body, who spun around in initial irritation. But then he zeroed in on Clare, and a devious smile began to creep up her face.

"Hi there," he winked, reaching to pat her hand. "How are you doing, cutie?"

Clare cocked her head to the side. "My name's Clare." She turned to Dallas. "Isn't it?"

Dallas stifled a chortle, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. Owen's eyes widened.

"Dude, is she high?" he demanded, looking like a cross between shock and glee. By now, his full attention was directed towards Clare, his wasted mess of a partner completely forgotten in the middle of the dance floor. She didn't seem to mind too much, though, given all the other boys who were now ogling her with admiration as she shimmed on down. _She's pretty, _Clare thought mildly, whose mind rested on another planet. "She's high, isn't she?"

Clare turned to face him again, looking confused. "Dallas, my name is Clare, isn't it?" she pestered him, looking upset with herself for not remembering. She tugged on his shirt in distress, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

"Nice," Owen slapped Dallas's black, keenly watching her chest as she continued to bounce.

"I told you I'd do it," he muttered, looking quite pleased with herself.

"To be honest, I didn't really believe you would," Owen admitted, looking memorised. "He looked so pissed every time you brought her up, I thought he was going to murder you before you got the chance."

"Screw Eli," Dallas grunted, holding Clare tighter. As Owens's cell began to buzz, he continued "From what I heard, he's been avoiding her for weeks now. She just showed up on my doorstep, all beaten and dishearten. I was about to turn down a perfectly good opportunity."

"Props to you then," Owen mumbled, fumbling with the buttons on his phone. "Hello?"

Clare hummed absentmindedly to herself, swaying mindlessly to the music. Her skin still felt like it was burning through the fabric of her clothes, and her heart was still racing. Everyone else in the room didn't seem to be quite as bothered as she was by the heat, and she suspected it was because they were wearing significantly less clothes- strapless shirts, short skirts, and skin-tight dress were all she could see, and Clare started to feel strange for wearing so much. She wanted to be like everyone else.

The boys were still conversing, and Dallas's arm was still firm around her torso. Frowning, she wriggled out of his grasp.

"What's wrong there?" he asked, breaking off to look at her confusedly.

She just ignored him, and proceeded to peel off her jacket and sweater, tossing them haphazardly onto the floor.

"It's so hot in here," she complained, ripping off her thermal shirt. "Why is it so hot in here?"

This was a mistake on her part, because just as she threw her clothes across the floor, people began to notice. A beautiful girl was taking off her clothes, and nobody was going to mind their own business now.

"Edwards, Edwards, relax," Dallas chuckled, reaching out to clamp her arms to her sides. He turned his attention to the eager crowd, still managing to keep a struggling Clare intact. "Nothing to see here, guys," he said loudly.

There was a murmur of groans as the crowd dispersed once again, returning to its jumbled, sweaty mess of adolescent bodies. Clare cocked her head to the side curiously, still feeling very much hot and out of herself. It felt good, being where she was- slightly hazy, but good. She liked being in this state of mind.

"Where's Millie?" Clare asked suddenly, looking around with a perpetually confused expression on her face. "I like Millie. Where is he?"

"Edwards, why can't you just enjoy to buzz?" Dallas shook his head, handing her a shot. "Just sit back and relax."

Clare peered at the mysterious substance, unsatisfied. She swirled around the contents, sniffed it, and did everything except drink it. It was her whirling head that told her not to, but her parched throat that kept her intrigued. Would it quenched her thirst, or just add to the massive headache she's anticipating the morning after?

"I think I'll pass," she said, handing it back to him.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, with the exception of the few advances Dallas made on her. Every so often he would slither his hand along her sides and push her closer towards him, murmuring meaningless compliments into her ear or introducing her to a few more of his friends. He seemed to be very well known in the Ravine, which meant unfortunately for her, people would be ogling them both. Her stomach whirled in an unsettling manner, and she kept her legs clamped shut. Something did not feel right, but she couldn't bring herself to change it.

"I'm going to use the restroom," she announced, sliding down from her high stool.

"Not yet," he said evasively, holding her in place. His eyes were fixated on Owen, who finally emerged from the bathroom. He had a smug-sort of face on, one that veered towards mischievous if you looked closely enough. Clare quirked an eyebrow at him. "There's still more people I'd like you to meet."

"We have a special guest for you, Edwards," he winked, holding out his hand for her to take.

She looked warily between the both. "There's still more? How many people could you possibly know?"

"This is the last time, I promise," Dallas reassured, flashing her a pearly-white smile. And without further explanation, he snaked his arm around her waist and led her through hundreds of sweaty, moving bodies. With Owen at her front, she almost began to protest because of how claustrophobic she felt, squeezing through everybody. The big hulk obstructing her view didn't help much either, as she bumped into him countless times. How could anyone breathe in this mess? It was almost as if she was drowning in a sea of human beings. How she yearned to smell anything but sweat and cheap perfume and alcohol, all melded together in a toxic mix.

"I can't- where are we going?" she demands, tripping over another foot. "Guys, seriously, I-"

There was a girl and a guy kissing fast.

Hungrily.

Eagerly.

One of them was Eli.

Nothing in the world would have prepared her for such a heavy blow. Her mind worked overtime, processing the movements of his hands sliding all across her body, the movement of her hands tugging roughly at his hair. Quiet moaning and lustful touches. Dishevelled states. If anything, neither appeared remotely inexperience in his field, and the girl was indeed very pretty. She assumed, anyway, that she was even if her lips were pried to his.

They groped around in the corner, completely unaware of their audience. Not once had they stopped to resurface for air, or to even acknowledge who was at their presence.

"You'd been at it for ages now, guys, break it up," Dallas said loudly, not the slightest bit disgusted by their ministrations. He looked absolutely amused.

The split second Eli began to break off, Clare acted instinctively. Even though every part of her shattered at the sight, she managed to muster enough strength to pull Owen towards her, and hide between him and Dallas.

"Oh. It's just you," Eli said huskily, sounded unabashed. There was no embarrassment in being caught in such an intimate situation, and it broke Clare even more. If it was possible to die from extreme devastation, if her body could stop functioning from the burning sensation eating her alive, it would have happened by now. It was a moment of pure weakness and vulnerability. It was after weeks of hanging precariously off a cliff, hanging on for dear life that he had finally done it. He stomped hard on her weak fingers.

He broke her. He replaced her without even trying. But hell, she wasn't even in the picture to begin with.

"What do you want?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Oh, nothing in particular," Owen said plainly, giving Clare just enough time to suck in painfully sharp breath. She clutched desperately her chest, trying with everything she had to pull herself together. Her iron-built curtain would step aside any second now, revealing…

"We were in the neighbourhoods, and we thought we'd bring you someone."

An icy-cold breeze environed her as the boys moved aside. There was never a moment before that she'd ever felt so small, so insignificant, so utterly betrayed by a one person. Nor has she ever felt so replaced. Clare seized the hem of Dallas's shirt, clinging on to him like he was the only thing left to cling onto. She registered six different emotions before he settled on one- shock, horror, anger, and everything in between. Six different emotions flickered like that of a light bulb, so fast that she might have missed it if she blinked. After that, all she could detect was a clenched jaw, tight eyes, and utmost fury. It was drastic change from the initial disbelief that made her shrink back. Eli was always so frightening when he was angry, and that, she supposed, was one thing that didn't change.

That sobered her up quickly.

"Why the _hell _would you bring her to a place like this?" he growled. His pallid face drained even more of colour. He looked completely outraged, and it was terrifying.

Wait a minute. _Her_? Somewhere in the midst of this, Clare felt herself stiffen. Was she so insignificant that he couldn't even say her name? And did it even occur to him that he was two seconds away from doing it with another girl with her watching? _Does he think I'm just sitting here, vegetating? _

"Oh, you're pissed off again?" Dallas said sarcastically, causing Owen to snort. "What a surprise."

"Get her to call someone to take her home," Eli ordered, livid. "Get her out of here. Now."

"You don't even care about her," Dallas said brazenly, taking a big step towards him. It was meant to be an intimidating gesture, but Eli stood his ground, despite having to crane his neck a bit. "Girl came to me."

For a brief second, Eli's eyes flickered towards Clare. His face hardened. What Dallas was saying was partly false as her intention was to find Eli, but she didn't try to correct him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was here because she was looking for him, because it was honestly pathetic. It was obvious that Eli had no problems finding another girl.

"You're doing this to provoke me," Eli said tightly, narrowing his eyes into furious slits.

"Babe, come on," the girl behind him spoke for the first time, impatiently tapping on his shoulder. He merely shrugged her off.

"Is that what you think?"

"I know you wouldn't care if anything happened to her."

"Like you would."

"Oh my God, can you take this soap opera somewhere else?" the girl whined.

"Your fuck buddy makes a good point," Dallas pointed out, as Clare winced at his vulgar language. Her childhood friend had a fuck buddy. The guy that broke her heart had a fuck buddy. "Why don't we take this outside?"

"Stop, Dallas," Clare whispered, gently pulling him back. He stepped back without difficultly, as everyone's attention was immediately directed towards her. It was the first time she had said a word since she took that low blow, and to her surprise, she wasn't upset at Dallas. She'd rather have not seen Eli so involved with another girl, and she'd rather not have months worth of heartache ahead. No, that wasn't what she wanted. And neither was this.

"Seriously? You're going to let him get away with this?" Dallas gaped, looking indignation.

"Shut up," Eli snapped. He turned to Clare, but she averted her gaze. She might not be able to take it if green eyes find and search her. She's not that strong. "Clare, go home. You can't be here."

He said curtly. As if he had a right to tell her what she can or can't do.

_The nerve._

She really wanted to hurt him. She wracked her brain, searching for the most effective method of inflicting pain upon a person using words, physical strength, whatever. Here she was again, on the lower end of the burnt, withered, and blackened stick abiding all that he was doing to her. Clare was letting him walk all over her like she was nothing to him, she _let _him. It's because she wasn't doing anything to stop him. She just hoped he would change on his own, and it was clear now that it was never going to happen.

A _fuck you _would be appropriate right about now. Even a _shut up Eli _would suffice. She had ever right to slap him across the face, knee him in the groin, or even ask Owen or Dallas to fight on her behalf. The possibilities were endless, and she fueled by a very human-like desire to retaliate. He was insensitive and callous and uncouth and she wanted so badly to hurt him, just to show him what it felt like to be on the receiving side of his actions. It would mean permanently damaging their relationship, but it was a small price to pay considering said relationship was contorted and kicked to the ruins. There was nothing to save now.

Even Dallas was looking at her now, practically begging her for that one word. Any word, really, that would give him sanction to start a brawl. He, too, had an aversion for Eli, but for a completely different reason and at a completely different level. It was very surface-like and could be repaired. No irrevocable damage there.

And of all the things she could have done, in this perfect opportunity of vengeance presented to her on a pedestal, she picked one word.

"Why?"

And nobody was expecting that. Everyone must have assumed then that the girl had an endless supply of patience, never once faltering in her perfect good-girl fortitude.

"Wha-why _what_?" Even the fuck buddy was taken aback.

Clare politely wounded her arms behind her back, wondering the very same thing.

"Why…why you shouldn't be here?" Owen raised an eyebrow. Everyone was completely thrown-off, and it would have been quite humorous if it had been under different circumstances.

Clare nodded once, appearing blasé to the response she had gotten out of everybody. "You're here, safe and all. Why shouldn't I be?"

But Eli had an answer ready. "Because you're not cut out for this kind of stuff," he said quietly. "Drinking, drugs, and the Ravine… Jesus, Clare, this isn't you. You're not the type of person to be around people like Dallas- and while we're on that topic, why the hell are you even with him?"

Yes, she allowed the opportunity to slip by. No, she wouldn't regret it.

Especially since there'd be much more chances ahead in the near future.

Clare looked at Dallas.

"I think…I think he planted some drugs on my hot chocolate," she said musingly, as if making an educated guess. It was funny because she wasn't angry or outraged or anything like that. Maybe she was just too tired of letting that kind of thing sap up her energy.

"That's good," Dallas said, looking impressed, while Eli's eye bulged out of their sockets. What little colour that had returned to his face drained almost instantly. "How did-"

It was as if she blinked, and everything happened at once. At that fraction of a second, Clare had not been gauging Eli's expression for the reason that she involuntarily and very briefly closed her eyes. It was a night of surprises and unexpected things, as at that precise moment she was whisked away, hearing only undertones of "poison" and "fucking innocent" before entering absolute darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

Fingernails dug deep into her flesh, creating angry red marks on delicate white skin. If she paused, even for a brief moment, she may end up with her face mashed against the ground what with his long, fast strides. She had to question why she was allowing herself to be towed like a rag doll, and it was sad to think this epitomized her life. She didn't have thick skin, and she wasn't assertive enough to stand her ground. Letting people take her for granted was just something she had grown accustomed to her. And maybe that was why Eli was so upset. He knew she's probably let stuff happen to her.

Still, he has no reason to get angry with me, she thought reasonably, as Eli thrusted her into a passenger seat. He doesn't own me.

Oh dear Lord, she then thought, realization dawning on her. She did it again. She let him have his way with her again.

"What are you doing?" she asked at last, as he hastily leaned over to buckle her. His breathing was deep and short against the front of her neck, somewhat resembling a pant. His eyebrows, from what she could make out in the six o' clock darkness, were knit together in intense frustration.

"Taking you home," he said through gritted teeth, clicking the belt in place. He slammed his keys in, and before she knew it, they were speeding down the streets. She jerked forward from the sudden acceleration, but he showed no concern whatsoever for her comfort.

Clare pressed her lips together. "No."

Eli said nothing.

"Eli, take me back. I'm not going home."

"Don't fight with me Clare," he said tightly, gripping hard on the steering wheel.

She undid seatbelt without hesitation, the sound making Eli's head automatically whip around. At the same time, the car swerved out of control. He quickly turned around and made a sharp turn, barely dodging a pickup truck just ahead.

"Clare, I'm not debating this," he said in a sharp voice, bordering panic. She saw how his eyes flashed. "Put on your seatbelt, please. Clare- no!"

She pushed open the door, all while the car was still moving and jumped out, nearly twisting an ankle and sending Eli into cardiac arrest.

"Clare! Clare, come back!"

He jerked to a rough halt and flew out of the car, not bothering to even cut the engine before chasing after her. He reached and seized her wrist again, spinning her around.

"You don't get to do that, you know," she said, shrugging him off. "You can't just walk in when you feel like it and tell me what to do."

It came off with a lot more bitterness and resentment than she intended, but that was fine. Hopefully he'd catch on to what she was saying. Hopefully he'd have the slightest hint of the crime he had committed. Hopefully she would hurt him as much as he hurt her.

"Why are you being so difficult?" he asked, aggravated. At this, she let out a humorless bark of laughter. She couldn't help it. It was all so ridiculous.

"Are you serious?" she pressed her hand against her forehead, looking at him in awe and disbelief. "You're accusing me of being difficult?"

Eli just stared at her, mouth slightly agape. It was as if he was going to say something, but stopped himself from saying it.

"I thought you were opening up to me! I thought that after all the progress we made, all that history we had, you'd at least hang around," she shook her head vigorously, looking at him helplessly. "It hurt me so much when you left again, and-"

"How much?" he murmured, interrupting her extemporaneous rant.

She paused. "It hurt as much as it did the first time."

Eli shifted guiltily, inclining his head towards the sky. "I knew it would."

There was a pregnant pause again, and wind blew between them to make the distance more evident. The great wall that served as a barrier of separation only grew thicker, harder to break down. A vague answer solved nothing, as trying to explain what she felt was futile. More desperately now, she tried again.

"And here you are again, telling me exactly what I should and shouldn't be doing without a legitimate explanation, as if completely rejecting me wasn't enough!"

"I didn't reject you," he objected defiantly.

"Really?" she said dubiously, feeling like she might break again. "Then why do I feel like I lost?"

Eli shoved his hands in his pocket. "You can't lose what was never yours."

Silence.

"I'm just looking out for you, Clare," he then said. "I'm sorry I made you believe that I cared for you in that, because I don't. Looking out for you is like an obligation, for the well-being if my conscience. You're just so innocent you know? You attract guys like Dallas because you're easy in that sense. I hope you understand."

The next few minutes consisted of blank faces and thudding hearts on both parties, with Eli waiting for her to speak. He kind of just waited; waited for anger, waited for tears, waited without certainty. Clare had proved herself to be somewhat predictable, and she supposed that was the last shred of dignity she had left. She knew it was the only thing she had left. How utterly pathetic.

"We can be friends," he offered bizarrely. Then he smiled at her- a tiny, polite, quirk of the corner of his 's when it hit her like a burst if intuition.

Friends. That was all he wanted to be, and blinded with the hopeful delusion that there was more between them, she seized the possibility, and ran with it. All along she had pegged him as the perpetrator, when actually...he had done nothing wrong. It was really all her fault.

-x-

He had gone to far. He crossed the line. Everything he had said sounded so unbelievably fake, he almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation.

Clare, on the other hand.

If looks could kill... That expression was so overused, but never had it been this applicable before. Why the fuck was he trying so hard to hurt her? To scare her away, so he wouldn't have to hurt her more? What kind if fucked-up logic was that, anyway? At the moment, he couldn't even remember why he was so hell-bent on keeping his distance. All it had done was mess then both up to the point where he wasn't even sure it was fixable. Maybe he was hoping that by putting distance between them, she would eventually move in and forget about him. Then he wouldn't risk having to make their lives even more messy. Maybe he was hoping they would both be better off without the other impeding their fated paths, screwing up the natural order of things. Feelings, and relationships and stuff usually screwed things up. Though,it never really occurred to him that she'd be this attached to him, simply, maybe, because he wasn't her type, and there was no way she could like a guy like him. He was the Clyde of Bonnie and Clyde, while she needed some Romeo to whisk her away to a nice palace somewhere far away. They just didn't fit.

He wrung his wrist and bit his lip, feeling extremely uneasy about the justifications in his head. He could rationalize all he wanted, but the major reason why he left lingered like the smell of sweat on a hot summer day.

Helen's face when she saw him. She looked at him like an insect- a dangerous one, that must be killed quickly. It didn't take a genius to realize that Clare was the only thing preventing her from going after him with broomstick. It was like she just knew, he was nothing but trouble to her daughter.

And he hated that after years and years of being away, he still had nothing to offer her.

Hot, angry, humiliated tears trickled down her faces, and it happened so suddenly Eli sprung up to wipe them before thinking about what he was doing. It was habit. An instinct. A yearning to soothe her. Also an excuse to touch her, but no one needed to know that.

"Don't touch me," she implored, weakly pushing his hand away. She squeezed her eyes in such a way that Eli recognized as an attempt to repress herself. Clare looked as if she was fighting back the urge to do something, and oddly enough, it wasn't something angry or revenge-driven.

"Sorry," he mumbled, staring at his hands. They looked particularly big and clumsy today.

"No," she said in almost a whisper, as more tears rolled down her cheeks. Silent crying, none of that bawling or gasps for breath. Somehow, the lack of sound made it ten times more poignant. "I'm sorry."

That wasn't the respond he was expecting.

"For what," he asked, completely bemused and taken aback.

She gave him a teary smile, and for some reason this lacerated his heart. His stomach did a flip-flop, and his chest was pounding. Suddenly he was terrified of what she was going to say. Suddenly, the world was standing still because Clare Edwards was smiling at him after he had had treated her like a toy. How effective a wobbly smile could be, for regret began to seep through his veins.

He was scared because this might be the moment he hoped for all along, and now that it was here, he wished it wouldn't have came.

"It's quite stupid, actually," she insisted, continuing to smile in spite of herself. "I thought that you liked me, and I made assumptions that I shouldn't have. I've been so naive, Eli. I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"It's okay," he said automatically, even though he was sure as hell that it wasn't. His mind remained somewhat dazed at the decision she made upon herself, and he began to severely second-guess himself.

"I promise I won't bother you anymore," she vowed sincerely, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She looked so pretty with her hair like that. More regret surged through him as it all started to process. "I really am ashamed of what I've put you through, and I'm so sorry about it."

"It's okay," he lied again. Except it's not.

She smiled bashfully at him, features still sparkling with fresh pain. There was no doubt that she was very much hurting inside- her blue eyes were darker, more worn-down. Clare was endeavoring to hold herself together for his sake, for the sake of his stupid conscience.

"Are you still going to go back?" he asked numbly, unsure of what else to say. All he knew was that he could not bare to see her walk away. It was funny though, how he allowed himself to do it multiple times, but wouldn't let Clare to do the same.

She searched him for a bit, and Eli feared her answer.

"No, it's getting late anyways. I should be helping me mom with dinner right about now."

He exhaled subtly, relieved, and undeniably constricted at the same time. "May I drive you home, then?"

"That would be nice, thank you," she said genuinely, smiling again. Her smile would be the death of him, but not necessarily the good way anymore.

As Eli led her to the passenger door, courteously opening it for her, he felt her body brush past him as she slid inside. It was a quiet kind of gesture that didn't make a big deal of itself, but one that was obvious enough to be discerned as intentional. He shivered and held his breath, making it way to the driver's side. Here's to numbing all the feelings again. He couldn't wait to go home and drown himself in alcohol. Clare wouldn't approve of this, but then again, what was she to him anyway?

"Eli?"

"Yes?" He rubbed his palms together, trying to warm them up.

"We can still be friends, right?"

He chewed over her question, slowly starting up his car to stall for some time. She was in no apparent rush for a answer, as it appears but he made a show of it anyway.

"It depends," he said. "Would you let me look out for you?"

"It depends," she said in a shaky, teasing voice. "What exactly would that entitle you to do?"

"Whatever I feel would keep you safe."

"I still don't believe there's any threat, but if that's what makes you happy, the sure. You can protect me." She leaned her head back, relaxing against the headrest. She shut her eyes

Eli winced, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "Right. Whatever makes me happy."

The ride home was painfully long and silent. At the same time, however, Eli felt as if there was a bomb inside him ticking away. To stay or to go? He didn't think he could go through with it now that it was happening. He couldn't do it. He couldn't let Clare slip through his fingers. He wasn't sure why, but the mere thought of it made it hard for him to breathe. All he could think of was how patiently she had sat there, listening to his story without critical eyes or skeptical remarks. He thought of how she hugged him and held him together with her tiny arms, so warm and full of hope. It was so crazy and insane and it didn't make sense for him to subconsciously rely so heavily on one person, but somehow he did. And the closer they got to her house, the panic began to set in.

The thing about life is that you meet hundreds and hundreds of people, but they'll always be just this one.

He turned his head ever-so slightly to peek at the girl beside her, surprised to see that she was silently crying again. Her nonchalant facade didn't last as long as she may have hoped.

"Clare?" he said in a crackly voice, drawing her attention away from the passing trees.

"Mhm?"

He said nothing. His silence alone was enough to get her to turn.

Clare's face softened at the sight of him. "Oh...dear, Eli," she said in a nearly inaudible tone. She reached out and touched his face, her fingers coming back slightly damp. He ran his knuckles across his eyes. Oh.

As soon as they were safely parked a block away from Clare's house, he surrendered completely, yielding, allowing her to see him weak again.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently, yet pressingly. She rubbed her own eyes dry so that he could tend to his, saddened by the great display of emotion before her.

"Noo," he moaned, burying his face in his hands. "Noo..."

"Hmm?" she nudged him softly, concernedly. The wide expanse of her forehead crinkled, merging light arches of hair together.

"Clare, you know I'm lying to you, right?"

She perused him for several seconds, as if waiting for the punchline. He on turn was waiting for a punch in the face that never came. Then Clare did a very Clare-like thing and shifted towards him, collecting him in her arms. Wordlessly, he nestled his head in her shoulders, burrowing himself deeper into her. He felt absolutely pathetic, to say the least, even more unworthy of Clare's affections.

She didn't seem to mind, though, and they cried together.

-x-

"Luke, you're doing an great job with the balloons," Clare said breathlessly, bringing over a new box of plastic beads and colourful string. She wiped her brow, quickly scanning over the room to see what else needed to be done.

"The arts and craft booth was good idea, Clare," he responded with a smile, twisting a purple balloon into a nice sword. "Also as good as the bible story station. Imogen's really good at story-telling, and the parents are happy about it." He handed the balloon sword to an eager-looking boy, who in turn whacked Luke hard in the bum. As Luke let out a yelp of surprise, the boy sniggered and galloped away to join a gaggle of other rambunctious kids.

"Thanks," she beamed, admiring her work. "Mo's enjoying himself in the snack section, isn't he?"

Luke chuckled, rolling up his sleeves to pump up yet another balloon. This time it was pink, destined to be a crown for the little girl who specifically requested it. "Cookies and juice? That's the closest he'll get to Heaven in this lifetime. I suspect we won't be having any leftovers today."

"Marisol will keep him in line," Clare assured him, watching the pretty girl pop a bit of cookie in Mo's open mouth. She giggled and swatted his shoulder, rolling her eyes flirtatiously as she poured some juice for a kid. "They seem to be getting along well."

"You have no idea," he said, just as Mo pretended to dump a while jug of juice of Marisol's head. She squealed loudly.

"You can't do that!" a voice whined agitatedly, followed by some scuffing noises. Luke and Clare turned their heads simultaneously to seek the source. "Bumblebee is supposed to be yellow. That's brown!"

An easily recognizable scoff, and a folding of arms. "Then you do it," Eli said huffily, thrusting the paintbrush in the little boy's lap. They glares daggers at each other, neither willing to compromise.

"The head's too big anyways," the boy grumbled, making a big show of rolling up his sleeves.

"He's not the only one," Eli said loudly, not bothering to keep his side comment to himself. The boy let out a harrumph.

Luke glances uneasily at Clare, hesitating to speak. "So good idea bringing Eli here, huh? He, uh- this is is first time being involved in church activities, right?"

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "It's rather obvious, isn't it?"

He stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of children and people wearing the same white volunteer shirt as him. The colour actually looked sort of dashing on him, because it brought out the darkness of his hair and the deepness of his eyes- Clare thought it was kind of nice, as Eli was the unconventionally handsome type. He wore the same pair of black motorcycle boots everywhere, and his dark jeans never failed to make an appearance. He didn't strike as the kind if person who attended church every Sunday.

But then he insisted on coming along with her to this fundraiser-type event this bright January morning, and even agreed to pick up Luke along the way. Ever since that day in the Ravine, he'd been really trying. Trying was never without error, and the weeks that past them by felt more like hours on a busy day. One moment he's crying in her arms, crying so hard they had to pull over on the side of the street. He latches onto her like he's afraid that he might lose her again, and it's between sob and hyperventilating that she discovers this fear of his. There's regret and lots of sorry's, and very quickly they're on the road to recovery. If she blinked, she might have just missed it all.

"No, not really," Luke hastily covered up, as if remembering who was his ride home. "We're all very grateful he's here, to be honest. It's just..."

"Where's his nose?" Eli demanded, poking his head towards the boy's painting. "There's no nose. How is he going to breathe?"

"He's a transformer," the boy pointed out, sounding annoyed. "He doesn't need a nose."

"That's stupid," he said blatantly, folding his arms across his chest. "His powers are probably awful-"

"That's a very nice picture Daniel," Clare said kindly, kneeling down next to the boy. "Did you paint him yourself?"

Daniel lit up at her words, and a toothless grin stretched across his chubby face. "I did the good parts. Eli did the bad ones."

Eli opened his mouth to protest, but Clare beat him to it.

"I think the whole thing is quite lovely," she said, placing a hand on Eli's knee to quiet him. As if it was a switch, he immediately stopped trying to speak.

Daniel beamed and continued to paint, swirling his brush in more yellow coloring.

"Eli, would you like to join me in the kitchen for a bit?" Clare asked him, mostly as a show for the kids nearby. He nodded, evidently still a bit crossed about the whole thing, but allowing his hand to be taken and allowing himself to be led away. She pushed open the kitchen door, peering inside to see if anyone was there. When she was certain that it was empty, she ushered Eli in and closed the door behind her.

"So how are you doing with the kids?" She began conversationally, tipping a jug of water into a plastic cup and handing it to him.

"Least to say, none of them are art prodigies," he said darkly, sipping his cup. Clare let out a genuine, humored laugh. "More of them seem to like dipping their finger in pain more than using the brushes."

"Less brushes for us to clean later then," she chirped optimistically, causing him to roll his eyes.

"We don't have to return these shirts, do we?" he asked, picking at a spot of black paint on his sleeve. "I think some kid dumped paint beside me when I wasn't looking."

"The black goes with your boots," she said cheerfully. "No one will notice the paint splattered on it."

"Ray of sunshine, aren't you?" he mumbled dryly, glancing at the clock. "It's almost over, at least. I can't wait to get out of here."

"Yes, maybe after church, we'll head to the Ravine," Clare said jokingly, instantly regretting the words as soon as they came out. Eli's profile tensed as she touched on the taboo subject. He didn't appear to appreciate such events being brought up, even after nearly a month passing them. Not since the day of, when all he could mumble was sorry between heavy sobs and ragged breaths. Road to recovery or not, it was becoming increasingly frustrating trying to get him to open up little more. There was something he wasn't telling her. The problem was there, lingering and drifting, but with no attempts to seize it and fix it. What she saw that night was like a moment of weakness, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever see it again.

"Come on Eli, I know there's something you're not telling me. I thought we were past this."

"There's nothing to say," he said, as curtly as he always would when she brought up touchy matters.

She signed resignedly, knowing that again, Eli had shut her off.

"No, don't do that," he sighed, softening his voice a little. He leaned back against the table, wearily letting his shoulders drop. He stared at his feet. "Don't get upset over something as stupid as this. I promise you it's nothing."

"What are your promises worth, exactly?" she said listlessly, busying her hands with more cups that need to be stacked.

A long string of silence hung between them like a division line. Eli picked at his shirt some more, gnawing on his tongue.

"My promises will be worth something. I'll promise you something now," he vowed in an undertone.

She waited.

"Have you ever felt infinite before?" he asked suddenly, a glint of light dashing across his eyes.

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Infinite." he repeated, as if that summed it all up. "Have you felt it before?"

"I don't...I don't...why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, her voice crackling with immense panic and nervousness. Oh dear. He was grinning at her, with teeth and all. Eli rarely smiled like that. Oh dear oh dear, her heart was now racing, and not just because there was an attractive crookedness to his grin. There was mischievousness in it that was almost alarming.

"There are three stages to feeling infinite," he explained, amused by her visible anxiety. "Three different feelings before you reach a high."

The way he was explaining it didn't help either. He could have been explaining what an orgasm was, for all she knew. Not that she really understood what an orgasm was, anyway- her mother forbade any knowledge of the sort from tainting her baby girl's brain.

"You'll have to do something reckless, than something you're absolutely terrified of," he said pensively. Clare wondered if he was thinking about his infinite moment, and wondered what exactly he did to get it. She pondered over what reckless thing he did, just as he meet her eyes. "Then you have to something erotic."

Clare balked, blood pooling in her cheeks. She could feel her face heating up at a terribly high temperature.

"You'll feel it soon," he said vaguely, angelically. "I promise you, you'll love it."

And then as he turned to leave, he did something that was completely out of character, and got Clare's heart bursting out of her chest. It was just that he put the most minuscule effort in charming her that she nearly forgot about why they were upset at each other, and it briefly made her wonder how dangerous it would be if he knew it. It was a deadly combination of that, and the words he implanted onto her brain. Oh dear, and if he actually really tried to be endearing.

He winked.

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**You can probably already guess what the next three chapters are going to be about. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**I re-wrote and re-wrote this chapter a bunch of times, and I'm still fairly unsatisfied by the lack of coherence in some parts. It's kind of a filler chapter that I want to get out, because I'm not sure when the next update will be. **

**I felt that it was crucial to tell this part in Eli's perspective, for the reason that his feelings for Clare are kind of muddled and unclear. At this point, he isn't physically attached to her- I know there are a lot of fics where he think Clare's some beautiful and sexy goddess, and that's not what I'm trying to convey here. It penetrates much deeper than that, and Eli here is more _intrigued _than sexually attracted to her. I think this love- or whatever it is that's between them right now- is far beyond lust and testosterone and y-chromosomes and whatever it is that gives guys erections.**

**p.s I'm only fifteen, so I honestly have no idea what I'm talking about. ._.**

**Enjoy!**

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"Here," he said, ripping off the page of his sketchpad and handing it to her. He used his teeth to hold his wooden pencil in place as he brushed off any excess eraser shavings, making sure it was clean before she took it. "It's done."

The girl he had just finished drawing smiled and examined the picture, evidently liking what she was seeing. Sure, Eli had adjusted a few things, blurred away some of the marks on her neck and sharpened the angle of her face a bit. The difference was not substantial, but it was enough so that he wouldn't be getting any more complaints. The last girl he drew refused to pay him simply because _her hips looked too round,_ which was complete bullshit because she was basically an oompa-loompa with ten pounds of gold around her neck. It took hours of slaving over that portrait for him to realize that people didn't always want to see what was real. Sometimes, people just want to see what they like, and those people usually irritated the heck out of him.

"My neck looks so long in this one," she mused, looking satisfied with herself. "I like it."

"I just draw what I see," he shrugged, telling a straight-up lie. It worked though, because her smile broadened.

"Thank you," she simpered, patting him on his head. Eli repressed the urge to gag at the gesture as she tossed a wad of cash into his lap. "I'm sure this will suffice…?"

And like always, he couldn't wait for his client to leave his apartment. The room was already starting to reek of cheap perfume. "Yes, Mam," he nodded, standing up. "May I escort you out now?"

"Yes, I think I'll call a cab," she bobbed her head up and down, still staring at her self-portrait. "And for you, I think I may call up some of my girlfriends and ask them if they want a picture too. These are absolutely exquisite, Mr. Goldsworthy."

"Thank you," he tried not to mumble. "I appreciate it very much."

As soon as the door shut and the lady was out of the earshot, he made a very childish bee-line for the air freshener in his bathroom. He couldn't wait to douse the room with the clean scent of pine trees, and maybe a long shower afterwards. He'd have to scrub raw every inch of his skin, which unfortunately for him, smelled horribly potent. It absolutely flummoxed him, how quickly the redolent spread. She must have surreptitiously dropped a stink bomb on his rug when he wasn't looking, or perhaps spilled a bottle of her perfume when he was sharpening his pencil. The last few days certainly jaundiced his perception of humanity. There was the man with eight inches of red beard, the sketchy-looking business women who was actually a prostitute in disguise… come to think of it, everyone looked sketchy the minute they walked in the room. This whole idea was sketchy even to him, but it was the only way to pay the bills.

And speaking of which, Clare would go berserk if she found out what he was doing-berserk in a Clare sense, or course, because she doesn't typically lose control in that way. There was no way he could tell her that he had left the house, and rented an apartment room in the sketchiest neighbourhood in the world. He couldn't bear to tell her that he was barely making rent as it is, and was struggling even to keep hot water in his shower. This girl, for some bizarre reason, constantly felt the need to help him every way possible, and Eli had very mixed feelings about this. He hated being a burden, and he hated having to be under someone else's sympathy. There was no doubt in his mind that if she had the tiniest reason to, she would ask him to stay over at her place. Never mind the mom that hates his gut, forget that he had already majorly screwed up and nearly got her raped at a bar. Something kept her rooted by his side, and that something was pretty much attached to his lifeline. He _needed _Clare, and he realized that quickly.

Which was exactly why he could tell her that he was living off the small sum he made drawing pictures of people, because then he'd have to go through the whole process of losing her again. So instead, he just did everything he could to have a reason to stay. Offering to drive her to the pharmacy when she needed it, volunteering to help her with church fundraising and such. It was recently that he realized that keeping his car was not realistic in his financial situation, and so with a heavy heart and half a mind to sell a kidney instead, he took his precious car to the auto shop and sold it. The pound of cash in his pocket would not be able to compensate for the new void in his chest, but it reminded him of the price he had to pay to leave those hockey guys for good. The cold war was over, and he finally did was he shouldn't have done a long time ago. It was fortunate for him that he looked much older than he actually was- the landlord hadn't done much more than cast suspicious glances at his direction when he walked by the front desk. Though, it would take a little more than interrogation to send him back. Just a smidge more.

And so, besides the bar of white soap in his hand and some toothpaste and tooth brush, all he had was a couple sets of clothes and a beating heart. A half-way decent place, in his opinion. In ten minutes he would be leaving to see Clare, and he was pleasantly looking forward to it. The jitters in his stomach liked to think that it was today's agenda that got him all riled up, because this afternoon, he was going to lead her into doing something utterly irresponsible. He hadn't dropped a single hint for the past week what he was planning, and the anticipation was slowly driving Clare up a wall. She was dying to know what it was that had taken him so long to arrange, and Eli was quite good at keeping secrets. It was an enjoyable mix.

-x—

"What if I dress inappropriately? You should tell me what I should wear, at the very least," Clare said rationally, calling out to Eli whom was standing between the door jam. She had asked him to come in, but he was adamant about keeping outside. Her mom and dad were both out for the first time, and he thought it felt odd to be in her house without them there. The occasional times he was here, however, it was just to pick her up for something. Never had he been in her living room before, let alone her bedroom. The mere thought of it made him uneasy, for he worried that some boundaries may be crossed by doing so.

"Just wear what you usually wear," he said, watching Clare flitter around. She was still dressed in her pajamas, which contrary to popular belief, Eli found very welcoming. He was fond of her cozy sleepwear, because it seemed like she was too. "You can wear what you're wearing right now, if you like."

She frowned, pulling open a drawer filled with sweaters. "I'll look silly next to you."

He took notice of how she said that instead of "_people will think I look silly."_ "I'm no male model, Clare. I'm sure you can wear whatever, and you'll still be fine."

"You're not? Well, silly me for thinking all along that you were." Her lips quirked, suppressing a grin.

"It's alright," he played along, eyes sparkling as he continued to watch her. "People have made that mistake before, no need to feel ashamed about it."

"I'll bet," she rolled her eyes, making a face. Her fingers hovered over a hunter-green sweater, pinching a loose thread. Her gaze sneakily found the forest-coloured sleeves peeking out of his leather jacket, and soon after she firmly seized the sweater. Eli pressed his lips together, stifling a tiny grin that was threatening to break. "I think I have a pair of pants hanging over the banister- could you grab it for me, please?"

"Sure," he said, sounding a little too eager. _She's trying to match me, _he thought, admittedly amused by this fact. He took a few steps out, and sure enough, came across a pair of pants- two actually. Eli instantly snatched the grey sweatpants off of the railing and brought it back to her.

Clare raised her eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, bewildered by her expression.

"Nothing, it's just…never mind. I'm going to the bathroom now, so if you want to come in and sit…"

"I'll just wait out here," he said, pressing his lips together in a tight smile.

She smiled kindly at him, brushing past him without another word. The bathroom door shuts with a quiet click, and immediately the thought weaves in and out of his skull like a needle through fabric. He wondered if Clare would really be undressing behind that thick wooden door. Maybe if he strained his ears, he would be able to hear her flannel bottoms drop onto the floor. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he could pretend that she was doing it here, in front of him.

But then he remembered it was Clare he was thinking about, and quickly shoved the thought out of his head. Surely he wasn't physically attracted to her like he was to the girls in the Ravine, because that would just be absurd. Unacceptable and wrong too, because Clare was nothing like the girls he met before- she was extremely conservative and unadulterated, and he soon felt himself stiffen in guilt. This was wrong. This was so wrong. It was like thinking of your little sister in an inappropriate way.

He glanced around the room instead to occupy his mind, drifting off to a promise land of pastel-coloured wall, light blue curtains, and a jar of sweets sitting on a bedside table. It was soft and homey here, widely contrasting the bleakness of his own apartment. Again, he found himself wishing that he had more to offer Clare than his presence. Perhaps if he was better -off, he could invite her for dinner at his home every now and again, and maybe even invite her parents. Her mother may be more accepting of him if he appeared more mature and responsible, instead of just the screwed-up kid she has to tolerate for her daughter's sake. He liked to ignore the skeptism of his rational mind and imagine that it was remotely possible.

"I feel like there's something prickling me here," Clare suddenly said, emerging from the washroom. Her hand was glued to the nape of her neck, fumbling around for something. Without warning, she strode right up to him and turned around, beckoning him to take a look. "Is there a tag poking out?"

The way she asked him implied that it was no big deal to her, and Eli was slightly taken aback by it. "Uhm…"he hesitantly lifted his hand up, brushing some of her curls out of the way to gain better access. His fingers moved agonizingly slow, fearful of his cold fingertips bringing discomfort to her skin. There was first creamy ivory skin, much more than he had ever seen before- a few odd freckles in some places, but mostly untainted surface. He gingerly pulled the back of her sweater and peered in, his eyes immediately darting upwards. He didn't know why, but he was suddenly anxious about crossing line again. What if he accidently and very briefly made contact with her skin, and she jerks away? It seemed entirely possible for something of the sort to happen, and it was making him very nervous. It was the expanse of alabaster exposed to him that was making his palms clammy, looking pristine and all. His eyes trailed downwards, taking its precious time in drinking in the newfound skin. It was just skin, for God's sake!

Then why the urge to slip his hand under her sweater and feel it? It might have been treasure, for all he knew, and it was mostly due to the fact that Clare was so incredibly _modest _all the time. Her body was a mystery to him.

"Eli?" she said uncertainly. He was suddenly aware of his laboured breathing down her neck, and hastened to hold his breath.

"There's a tag," he said rather hoarsely, proceeding to clear his throat. "Do you want me to rip it off?"

She giggled. _Nooooo! She obviously want you to leave it, you idiot. _"That would be nice, thank you. There should be a pair of scissors behind you."

He outstretched his arm and made a reach, seizing the cool metal between his fingers. Very carefully, he snipped it off.

"Alright, so are you ready to go?" he asked abruptly.

"Yessir," she bobbed her head up and down, giving him two thumbs up. Grinning cutely, she added, "Lead the way!"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on."

It was an oddly warm day today. Without the ever-present north wind swirling around, there was no need for much more than a nice winter coat and his hands jammed in his pockets. Clare did the same, and together they ambled along the sidewalk in comfortable silence.

"Eli, what do you want to be when you grow up?" she inquired suddenly, an air of thoughtfulness and authentic curiosity in her voice.

"I haven't decided that yet," he said cryptically, carefully choosing his words so that they wouldn't be an outright lie. It wouldn't do his conscious well if he lied to Clare again.

Once upon a time, he had given it a lot of thought, but he soon came to terms with what his future held for him. He wasn't going anywhere. He was going to be one of those people who spent their whole lives driving and driving without a destination in mind. "What about you?"

"My mom wants me in the life science field," she said musingly, kicking a rather large stone along. "My dad thinks it'll be good of me to be a pastor. "

"What about you? What do you want?" And the way he said it, made it clear to her that he thought nothing else really mattered.

"Happy, I suppose," she answered vaguely, allowing Eli to take his turn in kicking the stone.

"What would make you happy?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, you know," Clare said airily. "World peace, a cottage by the hills, that sort of stuff."

"Maybe I'll get you the latter next Christmas. And if you're a good girl, I'll get you world peace too," he winked at her.

"Oh, now you're just teasing me," she sighed, swinging her leg back to kick the stone. "I-whoops!" Her aim was way off, and she ended up kicking Eli firmly at the ankle. It wasn't a hard kick, but it was enough to get him veering off to the side with his arms outstretched in an attempt to gain balance again.

"Yikes, no need to get so abusive!" he reprimanded her with a smirk, as Clare coloured at her blunder.

"It was an accident!" she told him hastily, turning a darker shade of red. "I-I didn't mean to-"

"_Ah-buu-sive,"_ Eli drawled loudly, capturing the attention of many pedestrians who glanced their way. He clicked his tongue, casting her a perfectly smug look. "Wouldn't have pegged you for the violent type, Clare."

"People are looking!" she said in a hushed voice, taking a fleeting look around. She gnawed on her lower lip, looking anxious.

"Who? Them?" he haphazardly jabbed his finger out, but Clare was quick to push it down. He tried again with the other hand, deliberately trying to get a rise out of her. The smirk on his face grew. "Or is it them? Maybe over there, do you think?"

"No, no- Eli, it's rude to point! What are you-"

"You're so _touchy,_" he said vociferously, continuing to point around while Clare continued to stop him. From an outside point of view, they appeared to be doing a combination of wresting and dancing around. "Yeesh, I- _mgghm mgmh?"_

"You're like a child, I swear!" Clare scolded him, trying not to giggle. Both her hands were slapped over his mouth, determined to keep him as quiet as possible. The whole thing was entirely too amusing, and her face was still bright red, too.

_Mghmm _mmggm_ mgmh!" _he said in a muffled voice, still snickering like a little boy.

"I'll let go if you stop talking," she tried to say over both their giggles, but was failing miserably. "I'll let…let…"

Clare's hands suddenly went limp, and what had just been a bright grin faded to the ghost of one. Flummoxed by the abruptness of it, Eli watched with a puzzled expression on his face as she slowly and very charily, lowered her arms. He thought she was going to recede, but all she did was stop and wait. Her gazed never tore away from him.

He soon became aware of the proximity, the way he could not quite feel her breath, but could take in the little things about her face that he wouldn't have noticed otherwise. The slight roundness of her pale face and the rosiness of her cheeks emanated the innocence of the nine year old girl he once knew. It was extremely nostalgic, as these aspects of her hadn't changed in the years. The sprinkle of light freckles where the sun would naturally hit her face was more prominent at this angle. They were the kind of freckles that didn't make a big deal of itself. All of these things tied together a sweet young girl who was pure if nothing else and there was a longing in his stomach that yearned to protect her. An irrational sense of possession overcame him like a deep wave, led by a toxic mix of remorse, anxiety, and angst- had there ever exist a girl as wholesome and loving as Clare Edwards? What _was it_ about her that made him stay rooted here? It was the way she walked, the way she talked, and the way she carried herself that was so innocent and nice. God knew she was flawed in many ways. God knew how she could be so naïve and thin-skinned, and yet he stayed without giving it a second thought.

"Eli, let go," she said gently, nothing but patience and uncertainly in her eyes. With a pang of realization, Eli discovered that she was adverting to his hands. Hands that were clasped onto her waist, fingers splayed out and holding her firmly. He must have grabbed her subconsciously to steady her while she was covering his mouth.

But it wasn't the fact in itself that made him freeze over in aghast. It was that he had somehow slid his hands underneath her jacket, and was gripping her through the thick material of her sweater. It was thick wool, but it made the act a lot more intimate.

"I didn't-sorry," he murmured, completely horrified and embarrassed. He withdrew his hands and shoved them in his pockets, ears turning scarlet and very hot. "I didn't mean…"

She smiled politely, as if dismissing his apologizing. Rather, it seemed as if she was more than willing to forget about it given the uneasiness of her facial expression. She cleared her throat.

"So uhm, would you like to go now?"

He nodded and led the way again, concentrating on nothing but the resignation in her voice. He had freaked her out, no doubt, and with an awful whirling sensation in the pits of his stomach, he wondered sadly if he had messed things up again. Just like that, all good hope was muddled by a mistake made in the spur of the moment. She probably thinks he's some pervert now, trying to feeling her up and stuff.

_God, why am I such an idiot?_


	10. Reckless

**If you're still reading this, thank you for being so patient with me. I know I haven't been uploading as frequently, so I worked hard to finish this for you guys. :) Please review if you're enjoying this, because it truly does help motivate the writing process. Even a "hello, I like this" would make me bubble up with joy, because every review is a like a warm cookie- very welcomed, and impossible to get tired of. Thank you!**

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They must have been walking for half an hour now, and to Clare, it's beginning to feel like they were traipsing in search for some place remotely interesting. She didn't ask him why they didn't just drive to their destination, for she knew that there must have been a reason for it. Eli was not the type of person who did things without a purpose, and though the soles of her poor feet were aching from the tedious, never-ending hike, she didn't want to come off as whiney and ungrateful. He had obviously done some degree of planning here. He was walking too. It wouldn't be fair of her to complain.

The farther they travelled, the more seclude and solitary their surrounding became. The noise from the main intersection began to dwindle with every few metres they covered, and Finally Clare could not take it any longer.

"Where the heck are we going?" she blurted, as their path disappeared and they stared to tread upon grass.

"You're asking that _now_?" he snorted. "Clare, we could have been lost by now! How could you be so irresponsible?"

"I did ask you!" she exclaimed defiantly, gaping incredulously at him. "A number of times, in fact!"

"Did you now?" he said musingly.

"But we're not _really_ lost, are we?" she fretted, touching her chin. "I don't think there's anyone around this part of town."

He shrugged. "I don't think so."

"So you're not sure?

"I didn't say that."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, perfectly exhibited the degree of patience needed to deal with someone like Eli Goldsworthy. It would never be rainbows and butterflies with this exasperatingly taciturn fellow, because it was just like him to be purposely difficult. Even for someone with a naturally large supply of tolerance like Clare, it required a certain amount of effort to keep from bickering with him. She couldn't really complain, though- she voluntarily signed up for this, knowing that it was never going to be smooth-sailing. Ever.

"Then what are you saying, exactly?" she asked, unable to keep the slight irritation from lacing through her voice.

"Relax," he eased, patting her shoulder. "I'm just pulling your leg. I know where we're going. It won't be much farther now."

"Thank Goodness," Clare sighed, not bothering to conceal her relief. "We have a long way back."

He gave her an amused look, but said nothing.

Holding onto the sliver of encouragement in knowing that they were almost there, Clare soldiered on. She tried to wince as her feet cried out in agony, regretting wearing her favourite pair of boots. Apparently they weren't ideal for walking. But as she inconspicuously glanced over at Eli's feet, she realized his shoes weren't either. This was sort of an embarrassing indication of how unfit she was compared to him, because while she thought it was quite apparent that gym class wasn't her best friend, this whole ordeal strongly emphasized it. She wondered if his feet were secretly aching too, or if he really was just a good actor.

"I would have driven you instead, but it wouldn't have made any sense to," he said, as if he had read her mind. "There are no roads nearby."

"Oh. Well, I suppose you're right."

"Not a fan of physical exertion, are you Edwards?" The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Is it obvious?" she smiled weakly.

"Don't worry about it. We're here now, anyway."

He said it so nonchalantly, gauging her expression as he did, it took several long seconds for it to sink it. And as if on cue, Clare's eyes widened into the size of tennis balls and eagerly began to drink in their surroundings.

There was a creek, a dark tunnel, and endless forest environing them. It was very pretty, the way the golden sunrays would peek through the bare winter branches and bathe her cinnamon curls. It casted subtle red streaks across her head or hair and warmed up her pasty complexion. When she looked up to the sky, the dark branches created an abstract piece of work- almost like thin, haphazard brushstrokes across a blue canvas. The tunnel in the distance looked hollow and quiet, and a nice little touch to the whole scenery. All in all, it was a wonderfully serene get-a-way that would be nice to visit every now and again, but Clare didn't understand why they had to walk so far to see it.

"I like it here," she said placidly, taking a good look around. "I think it's beautiful."

"I try to come here when I have the time," he said thoughtfully, squinting at the bright sky. "But no matter where I am in the world, it always seems to take forever getting here."

"It gets awfully lonely here, don't you think?" she said, pondering over the isolation of the area.

"I don't mind," he said simply.

"Do you…like being alone?" she asked timidly, feeling a little guilty about prying.

There was a long silent- those were very frequent between them, and for the most part Clare did not mind. She liked that there was no pressure to keep a conversation flowing with him, and he, too, seemed content with a thoughtful atmosphere. Eli gazed deeply at her for quite some time, and, very hesitantly, reached out to entwine his fingers with hers. He watched her very carefully in case she showed any signs of unwillingness, and straight away Clare thought it was kind of funny; had she not been completely mesmerized and taken by surprise, only then would she even have the slightest chance of rejecting him. It was funny because she couldn't move so much as an inch as he reached for her, and yet, he looked like he was afraid she would jump at any given second. Did he know that she held her breath? Did he know that there were butterflies invading her tummy? It appeared that he did not know. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so cautious.

His fingers paused midway, pausing to caress the back of her hand. Pausing to dip a toe in the deep end before diving in. Pausing with uncertainty. She had to appreciate his consideration, because it gave her time to figure out if it was something she was okay with. And it was. It really was.

Eli lit up like a Christmas tree when she squeezed his hand, and it was a precious sight. The small sigh of relief he let out implied that perhaps she was the only one who was nervous about the whole thing. The butterflies exploded.

"Being alone is fine," he clarified shyly, taking his sweet time to intricately lace his fingers between hers. "I just don't think I can be lonely anymore."

Then life did what life does best, and demonstrated exactly why it was just a series of bad timing. Jarring Clare awake from the reverie Eli put her in was a noise- it was a mild sound, but it was enough to make her jerk away from him.

"Is that a train?" she asked confusedly, doing her best to pretend that she wasn't extremely disappointment by the ill-timing of it. Inwardly, she felt like she'd been kicked.

Eli smiled, unruffled. "Look where you're standing."

"Train tracks," she figured out at once. A fleeting second past and the look of horror struck her face. "Oh my God, we're standing on train tracks!"

"Yup." He popped his lips at the "P".

Clare stared at him, aghast by his tranquillity. With wide eyes, she seized a hold of his wrists and attempted to tug him off to the side into safely- giving him a look when he didn't budge. "A train is going to run over us at any second, why are you just standing there?!"

He merely shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head towards the sound. It was growing alarmingly louder, and yet his expression did not change to that of an alarmed individual. Eli appeared to be concentrating on something, quietly calculating with a minor crease between his eyebrows. It did not seem apparent to him that they were in peril, and if it did, he didn't seem bothered or startled by it.

"Do you hear that?" he asked.

"Our impending death?" Clare couldn't help herself. "Just a bit, yes."

He laughed like she told him a good joke, and was amused by her retort. "We're not going to die. It's not even that close yet."

"Well, I don't want to wait until it is so…" She gave another fruitless tug. "Eli, please!"

"They're tenders and freight cars," he informed her. "They have metal bars along the sides, and they'd scratch against the tunnel if they moved in full-speed. They tend to slow down right about here."

Clare took a cursory glance at the tunnel some distance ahead, gritting her teeth nervously. "I guess that makes me feel marginally better. But why are we here?"

"Because," he started, finally leading a very relieved Clare off the tracks and onto the grass beside it, "we're going to take advantage of that. I'm going to show you how it really means to be living."

And with that loaded promise, the train came chugging into view. Clare's first instinct was to take a couple steps back, but Eli insisted on pushing her outside of her comfort zone and gripped her hand. He kept her in place, keeping his eyes fixated on the approaching vehicle.

"How do you feel?" he asked breathlessly, securely holding her clammy hand.

"Anxious," she answered hurriedly, wondering what in the world he could have up his sleeve. Certainly not his heart, she knew that for sure. "Afraid that the train is going to run over our toes. Concerned for your mental well-being."

He laughed again, his breathing uneven.

"You're cute, Clare. Did you know that?"

She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. _Pretend like that didn't send your heart racing faster than it had been. Pretend that it didn't skip a beat along the way. Pretend to be blasé like your life depended on it. Laugh at the irony of that statement._

"Do you trust me?" he asked, aligning her body so that she was parallel to the tracks. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the wheezing, and in a way that didn't freak her out even more.

"I-yes," she stammered. Her confidence in that answer, despite how uncertain it came out, baffled her because in that moment of terrifying uncertainty, that was the one thing she was sure of. Maybe that was why she didn't run away yet. Maybe that was why she didn't run away _at all_. Sure, her feet were frozen to the spot, but her inexplicable trust in him was a major contributing factor to this reckless decision. It should have bothered her more that they were in serious and immediate danger, but it didn't. She trusted that Eli wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. The speed of the train forced a huge gust of wind to blow at their faces, and Clare squinted to keep her eyes from watering. She clutched onto his hand more tightly as her hair was tugged backwards. "I do."

"Then I want you to jump," he said with more volume. "I'm going to count to three, and when you see the bars in front of you, you jump alright? Fixate on one bar and aim for it- and when you grab it, don't let go."

Oh God, they were doing this. They were going to ride on the rails, something that was probably illegal and equivalent to the dangers of sitting shut-eye, Indian style on the track. It was reckless. Pure recklessness.

"Just trust me, okay? I'll be right there beside you," he was now yelling, letting go of her of her hand. Panic immediately swarmed her, as if the lost contact let all the oxygen in her lungs to escape.

"Don't!" she nearly shrieked, making a frantic grab for his hand.

"No, Clare!" he hollered more urgently. The train was coming, and there wasn't much time left before the opportunity slipped by. "You need to grab the railings with both hands, do you understand me? Both hands!"

Her throat was dry and constricted. Ten feet left.

"Are you ready? I'm going to count now-"

She nodded vigorously.

"One, two, three-"

She sucked in a sharp breath.

_"Jump!" _

-x—

Clare was flying, and she would never be able to describe how it felt. _How her legs coiled and sprung like they've never moved before! _It was as if she took a massive leap, and remained suspended in the air for a length of time that outdid gravity's works. It was such a foreign feeling to her, Clare could have been bridging the gap between life and death for all she knew. She would not have minded dying this way at all, for it was such an incredible feeling. However, the lightness beneath her feet only lasted for a fleeting moment, because her eyes soon began to water torturously with the heavy wind blowing all the moisture out. Shortly after, she felt the hardness of what she hoped to be metal bars collide against her the curve of her feet, forcing it to curl uncomfortably around. For a terrifying instant, her fists grasped a vertical bar, only to nearly slip off when the train lurched forwards. It was by some miracle that she managed to hold her weight by her fingertips. One long, agonizing second of fumbling for a more secure hold, and there- she had made it. The functional part of her shell-shocked brain seemed to think so, at the very least.

"Eli!" she shouted, trying desperately to push back the hair in her face with her arm. He had told that he would be next to her. He promised.

She turned to the right, where the forgotten tunnel laid ahead. She remembered what he said about it being narrow, and pressed her body flat against the train, Eli wasn't there. Hadn't he initially started out on her right side? Or was it her left? What if he slipped, and was some distance behind her? Her insides frosted over, and she shuddered at the thought of him sprawled across the ground, legs crushed under the-

_No, no, no! _Eli had not fallen. He had been so sure of himself, it couldn't possibly have happened. He couldn't have left her alone. A wave of nausea swept past her stomach, and Clare thought she was going to throw up at the mere thought of it.

"Boo."

She whipped her head around, frenetically endeavouring to focus her eyes on the source. But before she could confirm that it wasn't just in her head, absolute darkness engulfed her. It was pitch black, and in that instant she knew they had reached the tunnel. The wind felt different here- somewhat cooler and more exhilarating against her skin. Perhaps it was the sheer thrill of the darkness that amplified her senses, but adrenaline was rushing through her like electricity. She was…awestruck. The light at the end of the tunnel came all too soon, and the brightness of the day rained down on her like none other.

"_Hhhhiiii_," a raspy voice breathed onto her neck, making her heart jump right out of her chest.

"_Eli! You're _so _creepy!"_

"You look like you saw a ghost," he noted angelically, feigning concern. "Are you alright?"

"How would you like it if I did that to you?" she shot at him, narrowing her eyes when he just shrugged. "In the _night_ when you're sleeping on your bed? How would you like that?"

"Let's see," he pretended to think, pursing his lips to the side. "Clare Edwards on my bed, in the middle of the night, whispering into my ear…I'd like it even better if I had a visual, you know? My room is usually a clothing- optional zone."

"_Eli!" _she gasped, wracking her brain for some way to hit him without putting herself in mortal danger. Her offended tone set him throwing his head back and laughing in a way that she had never seen before. He looked liberated, like a big bird that had finally been freed from a small cage. His hair was tousled carelessly by the wind, and his eyes were sparking with mirth. There was an astonishing difference that Clare could exactly pinpoint- he was _happy._ "You're such a-a-"

"You're dazzling me with your extensive vocabulary-"

"-Oh shush, you interrupted my sentence-"

"-and blame me for your lack of verbal acuity-"

She dared to reach out and slapped his forehead before quickly re-seizing the handle bar. _Take that!_

"Did you just slap me?" he inquired politely, looking extremely amused.

"You deserved it," she retorted. "And on a side note, you're even more unbearable when we're hanging off the side of a train. Why is that?"

"Well, Clare, take a lean back," he said, smiling in a way that implied he knew a secret. It was almost impish, but just a little too sweet to be categorized in that way. "Then you'll see how good it really feels."

It was just a day of sexual innuendos for these two, and Eli seemed to enjoy it. He gingerly snaked his arm around her torso, and took a hold of the bar next to her. He then looked expectantly at her. "Well, what are you waiting for? I'll catch you if you fall, but try not to okay?"

Clare stuck her tongue out at him, unable to form a coherent response when his face was so close to hers. So she followed his advice, and very carefully arched her back. Her knuckles turned white as she held on more tightly, knowing that she didn't' want to use her safely net unless absolutely necessary. It was sort of a frightening thing, leaning back when they were already moving at a fair speed. It was not unlike a trust fall, where you had to be completely relaxed and refrain from making any sudden movements. She knew she trusted Eli, but it was herself that took a little bit more.

"Relax," he said soothingly, easing her into it. "Relax, relax…now open your eyes."

And she was flying again.

"I'm flying!" she exclaimed breathlessly, giggling at how she unintentionally quoted her favourite romance movie. She now had an idea of how Rose must have felt standing on the tip of Titanic, with Jack closely behind. "I'm flying, Eli!"

"You like?" he asked, laughter weaving through his voice.

"You have no idea," she laughed, feeling the blood rush to her head. She returned to an upright position when her arms could no longer carry all of her weight, and beamed at him. Clare must have been effervescing with bliss, because that was all she felt: euphoria, exhilaration, and above all an air of infinity- just like he had promised her.

"I'm glad," he said genuinely, gazing fondly at her. "I'm really glad."

She couldn't have noticed that he was looking at her in that way, no. Not even someone as intelligent as Clare would be able to see that Eli wasn't just giving her a tender look. She didn't realize that he was staring at her because she was quickly becoming the most precious thing in the world to him. That he had to stare to convince himself she was really there, ever-present in the flesh, and eyes dancing with ecstasy. That she had chosen to be here with him, and that she was not just a trick of the light. It was okay that she didn't know, because it didn't stop her from kissing him.

It was a chaste one on the cheek, but nothing short of electrifying. Her body might have just burst into flames from the blissfulness she was feeling, diving into a marvellously spontaneous moment. Was it normal to feel this way? Well, it didn't matter because she was feeling it and there was nothing else in the world that she'd rather be doing. It also helped that his cheeks lit aflame when her lips made contact, because she was entirely certain that it hadn't been like that before.

"Do I feel infinite now?" she asked softly, the tip of her nose grazing his warm cheek for a second longer.

"Not yet," he said softly back. "We'll be arriving at the train station any moment now."

To be honest, he looked like he couldn't care less of where the train station was, because all he was seeing is Clare. All Clare, everywhere.

Well, except Clare didn't quite know that, but it was still okay. She had kissed him, after all, and both bodies were now on fire.


	11. Fear

**So as you can see, I basically threw in all my guts in this chapter. Partly to compensate for the long period of time I haven't updated, and partly because I'm a huge believer that character development is key to an effective story. This chapter was an ass and a half to write, but I really do hope you like it as much as I do- even if it is twelve thousand words in length.  
**

**Special thanks for SilverHeartt for being an amazing reviewer- I want to dedicate this chapter to you, because you really encouraged me to write my best. I wrote all of this keeping you in mind, and I'm hoping it'll meet your expectations. :)**

**Thanks to everyone else who reviewed and read. I'm so, so, so thankful for your patience and enthusiasm throughout it all. And if you ever want to cry about Cam, my inbox is always open. I'll supply the tissue boxes and soft cookies.**

* * *

It had been a gruesome two weeks- that of heavy studying and exam papers to write. The hours spent barricading herself in her room, buried under stacks and stacks of study notes, felt hopelessly as efforts spent in vain. Clare often found herself letting out moans of distress every now and again, poring helplessly over innumerable pages of physics. What was she thinking, taking all three sciences in one semester? Surely she hadn't expected to have them all at once, but at the same time, she didn't quite make the effort to book an appointment with her guidance counselor to discuss her worries. The waiting list was almost endless, and at the time she hadn't thought it'd be that hard. At the time, it certainly wasn't worth waiting a whole week for one short meeting. It'd be good practice for her, carrying such a top-heavy semester. U of T and Queens were prestigious universities, and if she wanted good practice for year twelve, she'd have to suck it up and soldier on.

It was a decision she had began to regret as soon as January hit, because that was when the whirlwind started. For two weeks, she wouldn't dare squander any free time doing anything else but studying, and it was indeed a stressful experience. Clare had been so caught up in her own studies, she hadn't at all noticed that Eli was slipping away- she had just assumed he had tons of work to do as well. In the retrospect, putting aside ten minutes to ask how he was wouldn't have completely killed her, per say. That was a subconscious decision she'd later regret as well. But when exam results were revealed and final marks were uploaded, Clare couldn't find it in herself to regret anything- she passed, with flying colours too! Chemistry, Biology, University-leveled math and freaking Physics, and Clare Edwards would glide forward with a whooping ninety-one percent grade average.

Emerging victorious from her ill-fated semester load, the first person she was eager to reach out to was Eli. The few times they had conversed in the halls, he'd encouraged her to work hard with her studies. Her future was of great importance to him as well, and so she figured he'd be just as delighted to hear her results. Strangely enough, finding him at school was not as easy as it used to be, as their classed seemed to be all on the opposite ends of the building. Then on one lucky Thursday, she found him scribbling away by his locker, trying to finish up an English essay before the next period. Unfortunately for her, the end of exam week did not imply the same freedom to him as well, because Eli was booked solid- work, he had said. The hours were flexible, the pay was growing decent, and along with grade twelve courses, it was sapping up most of his time. The dark rings etched under his eyes were growing darker, and the time span between brief conversations in the halls was lengthening. They were fading, and picking up where they left off-at the train station, breathless and made undaunted by one particularly enlivening ride- was soon an unrealistic feat. _Of course, _Clare thought morosely, as days turned into weeks and weeks into the arrival of February. Or course the beautiful moments were short-lived. Of course the glimmer of hope would be extinguished as quickly as it appeared. She would just have to accept the fact that it would always be darkness before the dawn, and that this whole thing was one big cycle. Their "friendship" wasn't perfect after all, and was as complicated as hell. If they were really meant for the long run, fate would make it happen and fruitless efforts would account for nothing.

Buried in the back of her mind, in a massive file labelled "Eli", was the thought of his earlier promise. Accomplished already was the feat of recklessness, and there should be two other tasks that she couldn't remember. Clare wistfully imagined him to be planning their next wild adventure, hoping that he'd inform her of it soon because she really wouldn't be able to stand the thought of a broken promise from him. The whole point of it was to gain her trust, after all. And there was nothing worst that broken trust. She, of all people, would know that.

"Clare! Clare, wait up!"

Snapped out of her pensive state of mind, Clare instinctively turned around, slowing down her meaningful long strides. A zealous-looking, sparkling boy eagerly waving around a pamphlet in his hand was sprinting towards her, backpack bumping awkwardly against his side. He paid no attention to the many upperclassmen giving him dirty scowls as they were brushed aside, for there was a giant grin on his face that refused to be deterred. He was practically bursting to tell of exciting news, and Clare could only wait for the impact. She whirled around, hands resting in the pockets of her light-washed jeans, and smirking slightly at her stance. _How Eli-esqe._

Panting heavily, the boy screeched to a halt a mere foot away from her. With his hands on his knees, he struggled desperately to catch his breath. "Clare, the m-most amazing thing j-just happened today at lunch," he wheezed, clutching his chest.

"Boy, it must be good. I haven't seen you run this fast since Imogen decided you were her boyfriend in the second grade," Clare teased, plucking the pamphlet out of his hand. Luke shuddered at the memory. "What do you have here?"

"You won't believe it," Luke panted, his exhilarated grin broadening. "I got a call from Sandy- you know, the mission leader? Sarah and Samuel's mom?"

Clare sat herself down on the front steps of the school. As Luke immediately followed suite, an image of a kindly, red-headed lady with glasses struck her mind. She was quite a lovely woman who had dedicated the last decade of her life immersing herself in wonderful works, travelling all across Europe to spread the good news of Jesus Christ. She knew Luke had always thought highly of her. He'd been looking forward to serving in missions for years now, but due to the most recent furnace installation in the church, there simply weren't enough funds to support another trip. And so Luke waited- patiently, impatiently, and anxiously, fundraising all he could to help, and volunteering at every church event.

"Her team is going to Haiti right before this spring, Clare! _Haiti!" _he exclaimed, looking like someone who had just won the lottery.

"Luke, that's amazing," she said poignantly, giving him a hug. She could feel his heart race at the prospect of flying to another country to serve, just begging to explode. "Is that what the pamphlet's about?"

"Yeah," he beamed as she pulled away to look through the folded paper. "I've already confirmed my attendance, so I figured you'd want to show this to your mom and dad before you do the same. Gosh, Clare, I can't wait! Can you imagine-"

"Hold up a second," Clare chuckled. "Who said I was going to Haiti?"

His grin dropped a fraction of an inch, but quickly recovered. "You're kidding right?"

"I was hoping you were?"

Luke his head vigorously, springing to his feet. The rubbers soles of his worn black shoes paced back and forth on the flat concrete before and below her, pacing, pacing, pacing.

"Think of all the kids we'll be helping out," he said, almost imploringly. "You love kids, don't you? And you love charity work."

"Yes, but when exactly this trip will be?" she asked, thinking of all the classes she would miss.

He shifted uncomfortably. "In about three weeks. But wait!" he hastened to cry, thrusting out his hand to prevent her from protesting. "I know it's last minute, but plane tickets are more inexpensive at this time of year. It's a great opportunity to reach out, you know."

Clare gnawed on her lip nervously, feeling the pressure build in her chest. He wasn't purposely trying to guilt her in, but it was no secret that he wanted her to come. A companion in a group of experienced adults would be preferable, and she couldn't deny that this was an enriching opportunity. He had hit her right in the sore spot, too- _children. _Poor, undernourished children living in poverty, in dire need to be enlightened and hope for the future. She inwardly shook her head. This was a major decision, and there were many people to talk to before jumping in. How on Earth would she catch up in all her classes after a three week absences? Furthermore, could she even handle being away from the comfort of her own bed for twenty plus days? Her dad and mom would most likely approve, despite the toll it would take on her academics. They supported church-related extracurricular above everything else. There was also the minor fact that Eli might miss her presence- but hell, would he even notice? Her stomach sank in thought of a very likely nonchalant farewell on his part, not minding at all that she leaving. Maybe he couldn't care less of where she went, as long as she was surrounded by competent people who would be able to take care of her in case a poisonous snake bit her ankle or something. Times have been rough, and Clare felt like she was waiting for the punch line. Any day now, Eli would come up to her with a "surprise! You thought I actually cared about you, didn't you?"

Alas, her life was stitched together with a constant effort to move forward, and that was exactly what she intended to do. If Eli wanted to talk to her, he would. No questions asked.

"I'll have to give it some thought," she said evasively, slipping the pamphlet in her bag. "When's the deadline?"

"A week, maybe?" he said unsurely. "That would be a little generous, but if you can pack fast, I don't see how it would be a problem."

It wasn't a lot of time, but it was the best he could do. She'd take it. "Okay," Clare said, standing up and brushing herself off. Luke eyed her with wary eyes, the disappointment and hope evident in his facial expression. "When I decide, I'll let you know."

"I really hope you do go," he almost whined, walking with her until their path split. His shoulders dropped slightly in a sullen manner. "Prior to leaving, you can ask your teachers to prepare all the work to take with you. I haven't really seen you busy with anything else either- which reminds me."

The change of tone rang in some inquisitiveness on her part, and so she looked at him expectantly.

"I haven't seen you with Eli for a while," he said casually, oblivious to the sudden tenseness of her chest. "Is everything alright?"

"He's been busy with work and such," she shrugged, staring at her feet. As if she needed a reminder of how lonely she felt without him, Luke pressed for me. Again, his intention was never to hurt, but sometimes the boy was a little naive when it came to these things. He was never the intuitive type like Eli.

"If you want, I can ask Sandy if there's an extra spot open. Eli comes to our church; maybe he'd like to come too."

His suggestion was saying a lot: Luke was never fond of Eli and his casual attendance to Sunday services. The way he distressed Clare on more than one occasion was no helping factor either, nor was his appearance. Once Luke brought up Eli's eccentric liking for black eyeliner, saying to Clare how he never understood it. In mirthful helplessness, she could only agree- there were a lot of things about him that struck her as odd, and only a small percentage of them were explained. The rest remained an absolute mystery.

"I'm not sure if he'd want to go, but I'll ask him," she said uncertainly. "Thanks, Luke."

First, she'd have to get a hold of the mysterious boy, and for a moment, Clare had troubles determining out which would be more difficult: getting a hold of him, or figuring out why it was that he wore more makeup than she did on a regular basis.

-x—

A sharp rapping sound on her window jarred Clare awake at two am in the morning.

At first, she imagined it was her father banging around in the kitchen downstairs and simply rolled over with a bit of a moan. The rapping was incessant; sleepily, she tried to distinguish exactly what it was in her head, but fell back asleep before she conjured up an answer. It was peaceful again for the next several minutes.

At about two-eleven, she swore that in that very moment, a murderer was going to break through her window.

"Clare, open up!" A muffled voice called loudly.

Initially, she completely disregarded the very evident fact that this person knew her name, because being in peril let things like this slip. However, the fact that her parents were on the other side of the house, leaving her incredibly defenceless and vulnerable did not slip. The fact that she had no weaponry at hand, save for her Crossroads Textbook, also did not slip. Basically, anything and everything that would intensify her terror stuck with her, and that certainly didn't help. Under her blanket, her eyes were stretched wide open. Her ears were strained to the max, fearfully picking up every tap and shifting of position. She desperately hoped and prayed that the person would end up thinking no one was here, and thought that maybe if she stayed very still, he would go away. She made the assumption that it was a man, because honestly- who in the world would automatically think that a woman would be breaking into their home? The natural supposition was that every illicit being was a Clyde. And this Clyde, this very one in particular, was extremely adamant about getting what he wanted.

_This is it,_ Clare thought mournfully. _This is how I'm going to die. _She was far too petrified to go fetch her parents, or even make a beeline for her phone sitting on her desk. Cold sweat was trickling down her temple, and her fingers were curled around the edge of her blanket with a vice-tight grip. Her heart was racing right out of her chest. _Well, it was a good life, at least. I didn't get the chance to graduate high school, but I rode along the side of a train. _

"Clare, it's me!"

_I didn't get to travel the world, _she mused regretfully. _But I rode along the side of a train and that's kind of the same thing. _

"Open up, I know you're in there!"

_I'll never try turkey, durian, or star fruit. I'll never go on that mission trip with Luke, and I'll never give mom beautiful grandbabies. But I rode along the side of a train and I suppose durians not really that important in the retrospect._

A harder, duller thud. "Jesus, Clare!"

As if the magic word had been spoken, Clare snapped back into reality. The guy was getting impatient, but it was no excuse for the way the used the Lord's name in an offensive manner. Her mind flashed back to a few years ago, when Imogen in her Sunday school class had said that to her in front of Ms. Paisley. Boy, did she ever get in trouble. It was odd, though, because people said "oh my God" all the time and no one gave them a hard time. Maybe it was because saying what Imogen said was meant to be in an insulting manner. Or maybe it was because Imogen had been bullying Clare for a while and Ms. Paisley was getting sick of it. Maybe there really wasn't a difference, and people were just critical when they wanted to be.

But let's be honest here- the girl had just spent hours of the night fretting about her dreaded mission trip dilemma and a certain green-eyed boy who may or may not have fallen off the face of the Earth again. She really did not need this.

And so, she chose to be offended by this. And by some bizarre, fiery rupture inside her chest, Clare felt as if she was suddenly fueled. She was not going to let this guy have his way. In fact, she would be very dissatisfied if he walked away scot-free, because it was people like him who needed a little telling-off. Miraculously, she found it in herself to whip her blanket off. She mustered up the courage to get up and walk straight towards her window, pausing briefly as her hand rested on the latch. Clare drew a short breath, heartbeat still going wild. If she wasn't going to die from a gun pointed at her temple, she was going to die of tachycardia. It was hard to tell which one would be worst.

It was kind of a _what the hell _moment that was a result of her pounding head and extreme nerves. All she knew was that she couldn't stay still for any longer, and so with her textbook clutched firmly in her sweaty hand, she yanked open her window and whipped it at the shadowed target.

-x-

_Fucking hell damn it fucking shit storm fuckery fuck-_

An incessant stream of profanity ran its course in Eli's head as he tumbled backwards violently, one hand nursing the horrible throbbing sensation on his forehead, the other making a pitiful attempt at catching his fall. For one terrifying second, his vision blurred just as the hard object made contact with his face, leaving what felt to be a large indent on his skin. The world around him spun like a horrible amusement park ride, and his bum began to experience an awful pain when he landed shortly after. One moment he was standing upright, a handful of pebbles clutched in his fists. The next moment, he felt like he had just been shot by a bullet.

"Damn it Clare, it's me Eli!" he growled, wincing in pain.

He heard the window slide open again.

"Eli?" a soft, hesitant, feminine voice called out.

He really should have told her his name from the beginning. It probably would have saved him a lot of trouble. But would it really? Would she even have remembered who he was?

"Yes, it's me," he grumbled, wrenching himself in an upright position. "What did you throw at me, a brick?"

"Oh my God," she gasped, some distance away. "Oh my God, did I…did I hit you?"

"With staggering accuracy, yes." He held his forehead gingerly, checking his palm to see if he drew any blood. Nothing split open, but he'd be sporting a giant purple bruise there for the next several days to come for sure.

"I'm so sorry! I'll be down in a second. Wait at the front door!"

"Okay," he mumbled after she was long gone. Reluctantly, he rolled over and sluggishly tried to stand on his two feet. In response to this piteous effort, his butt cheek yelped out in agonizingly numb tenderness; his legs wobbled pathetically like a pair of pick-up-sticks, knees buckling at every change they got. He felt extremely humiliated even though no one was watching- thank God, no one was watching. If fucking Dallas was here, he'd probably by pissing himself in delight. _Fucking fuckery fuck damn the fucking hell-_

"Oh my God," Clare's voice reached his ears. She sounded slightly frantic and out of breath, as if she had just ran a marathon. Her profile seemed smaller in the midst of night's darkness, and it soon struck him that she was running towards him without a jacket.

Hurriedly, she wrapped her arms around his torso, half-dragging his aching body inside. Pausing only briefly to quietly close the door, they stumbled their way into the basement. It was an unspoken understanding, knowing that they both had to move as stealthily as possible, as both Clare's parents were only a floor above. Eli bit down hard on his tongue to stifle a groan, trying to concentrate on anything but the pain on his forehead and bum. He was so certain that his forehead had concaved from the incredible force impressed on it, and yearned for relief. Anything that would help to soothe, he wanted desperately.

"Door," he croaked, as Clare set him gingerly on the sofa. She nodded hastily, and turned back to shut it. When it was closed, though, she didn't hurry to return to him. Instead, she just stood there, several feet from him and with a guilty look on her pale face. At the very moment, she resembled a naughty child waiting to be rebuked, wringing her wrists and looking fearful.

Eli closed his eyes, focusing on making the pain subside.

"Sorry," she spluttered apologetically, hands flying to her clasp over her mouth. "I thought you were a burglar.

"S'okay, it's my fault anyway." He smiled meekly at her, trying not to wince too hard. "I didn't exactly come with an invitation."

She patiently waited for him to open his eyes again, which Eli appreciated very much. It gave him time to push the horribly awkward occurrence aside and allowed him to direct all his energy in doing what he came here to do.

"So uhm…what are you doing here?" she asked, as soon as a pair of dark orbs were staring back at her. She wound her arms around her back, rocking back and forth on her feet. Her eyes were fixated steady on her toes, seeking refuge from his intense gaze.

Now that his head was clearing up, he was fully cognizant of his surroundings. While he was vaguely aware of the colour of the carpet under his feet and the old armchair seated in the far right corner, the little details of the room occupied a small portion of his mind. The real focus was on the girl a few feet before him, the girl who appeared to be just recovering from her tenure as a stressed-out high school student. Exams were long over, but it appeared that she needed more time to rediscover her bright, cheerful state of being. He subtly cocked her head to the side, continuing to smile a little as he drank Clare in. Evidence of her fatigue, such as her drawn face and under eye bags barely registered. Nearly a month without fully seeing her, and he couldn't help but indulge himself with the sight of her sweet, simple demeanour and curly wisps of light brown that framed her pretty face- his very favourite part of her aside from her eyes. Although, the harsh fluorescents made her hair appear as more of a cocoa colour, which wasn't nearly as exquisite as how it looked in natural sunlight. It was also noticeably longer now- a tangible reminder of his short absence in her life. Still, he yearned to take her in, because the long hours of working that he immersed himself in had seriously deprived him of the one joy he sincerely took pleasure in: looking, and just being around Clare. Something about her always drew him in like the leaves of plant towards sunlight. Because that was what Clare was to him- pure sunlight shining down on his abyss. He almost wished that his list of coming clients would stop growing, for it was severely cutting down on the "Clare" part of his life.

He knew he didn't have a choice, though. He'd just gone to purchasing another heater for his living room, as God knew how freakishly cold it was in there. Proper heating was way too expensive to upkeep for his meagre apartment, and people were beginning to complain profusely. Not everyone was accustomed to poor housing conditions like he was, and so very grudgingly, he obliged to the many, many requests of his regular clients. Heaters were pretty pricey, too. Along with that considerable purchase were the water and electricity bills, and the cost of food that continued to make a dent on his wallet. He was constantly under financial stress, struggling to make payments on time regardless of how much more money he made. There simply weren't enough resources to take a break when he felt like. That was why tonight was important to him: no one wanted an appointment with him this evening, and he currently wasn't drowning in school work. It was the first opportunity in a long time to _Carpe Diem, _and he sure as well wasn't going to let it slide away.

Realizing that he was perusing her deeply, Clare coloured. She tugged on the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt to cover her hands, as if suddenly self-conscious of her haggard appearance.

_Don't be self-conscious,_ he desperately wanted to say. _I like you best when you're imperfect. _

He didn't, of course.

"Seeing you," he answered simply, though there was nothing simple about it. The smile on his face faltered, as Clare began to regard him as an intruder. Her gaze fluttered around the room uncomfortably, and she stalled her response by rolling all her weight on one leg, than to the other. She was very fidgety, but not so much in a nervous kind of way. Her lips were a firm line, not curved with mirth like how he remembered it.

"Elijah Goldsworthy, it is two am in the morning," she said in a disapproving voice, quiet but stern. She was usually good at extemporaneous speeches, and for this particular case, she seemed to be intent in transfer those skills to more of a lecture. "You can't just show up unannounced like this. You can't leave for an undetermined period of time without a solid reason, and come back when you feel like it. My parents are a couple floors above, and if they found you here, we'd both be fried- you especially. Do you understand how much sound you were making, throwing things at my window? You are so lucky they weren't startled; you could have woke up the entire neighbourhood. You also scared the living daylights out of me, telling me to "open up" with that creepy voice of yours. Honestly, Eli, that was terrifying. Furthermore, I refuse to believe that you trekked all the way here through the dark just to say hello, so I'm waiting for a real explanation from you. Otherwise, you're wasting your time here."

Ouch. He recoiled, as if wounded by the five -foot three girl standing before her with her arms crossed resolutely. With every reproachful statement digging deeper into his flesh, causing his silly optimism to shrink like a deflating hot air balloon, Eli could physically feel his heart sinking. Part of him wanted to defend himself, because there was a side to the situation that she wasn't aware of. The other part knew that he couldn't because of reasons, and felt that those reasons really strained his relationship with Clare. He had to tell her eventually, and he didn't understand why it was so difficult. _Clare, I live on my own in an apartment at Jane and Finch. I support myself with a job that involves strippers and drug addicts, but don't worry, at least I'm not stuck with Dallas and his idiotic hockey team. That's all that's really important, right? _He'd have to figure out how to word it better, and soon. It was a secret he couldn't keep any longer.

"I'm sorry, "he said repentantly, the honesty ringing with every syllable. The roles were reversed. Only this time, he was crumbling under Clare's reprimanding, feeling tiny. He didn't like it when Clare was upset with him. It made him feel like crap. "I didn't mean to scare you- honest! It was a stupid decision and I just really wanted to see you and I'm so sorry that I bothered you, Clare. Please don't be mad."

She inhaled sharply, unwavering. Eli's mind made a frantic grab at whatever words were floating around, desperate for her forgiveness.

"I'm sorry for not spending time with you, too," he hurried to say, wringing his wrists. "I got busy, but that's no excuse to leave you hanging-again," he added, wincing. His voice lowered. "I hope you know that I will never deliberately leave you like that again. I won't be able to stand it. Just this time, I was so exhausted and overwhelmed with work and school, I didn't have time to do and think much of anything else. And uhm…did I mention that I'm sorry?"

Clare subtly inclined her head upwards, raising an eyebrow ever-so-slightly.

He offered her a guilty smile. "And sorry for almost waking up your parents, you were a really heavy sleeper, and I feel bad for interrupting your wonderful dream of me-"

"I was _not_dreaming of you," she said, sounding mildly outraged.

"It doesn't matter if you were," he said breathily, earnestly. "I'm just sorry everything and I hope you forgive me even though I don't deserve it."

Then, the verdict. Her expression turned severe (if even possible for Clare) and her eyes tight, like she was seriously debating whether or not she should kick him out. For one, helpless moment, it appeared as though what he feared was confirmed, but it was quickly triumphed by a wry smile- no, it wasn't even a smile. It was a smirk.

"Took you long enough," she said teasingly, closing the static-like distance between them with a warm, tight hug.

It was a while before he processed what was going on, because she was literally everywhere. So warm. So inviting. Her body was soft and delicate pressed against his, and he had a sudden yearn to fuse it with his. The amount heat emitting from her- Holy hell, it was more than enough to make his head spin. He hadn't realized how much he had really craved her touch until she held him with the same fervent force as he held her. Eli was in no shape or form to reply with an equally as cheeky response.

"Clare," he sighed poignantly, burying his face in her neck.

How the fuck did he do this for four weeks? Here he was, embracing her with a fiery ardour, when out of nowhere he found himself faced with a problem. He couldn't let go. He was afraid she would all too soon, and for some reason he wouldn't be okay with that. Eli pressed harder into her, trying to burrow himself as deep into her as possible.

"I crazy missed you, Goldsworthy," she sighed lightly, twirling her fingers around his hair with a feathery touch. "You better not leave me again."

Could he really make that promise? Guilt met desire as it flooded through him, reminding him yet again of a task he hadn't completed. She missed him, though, and that reassured him immensely.

"I wish I could stay here with you," Eli whispered in a near inaudible voice, endeavouring to keep the plea out of his voice. He was in too deep now.

"My mom has a fifth sense, Eli. If you stay here too long, I'm sure she'll eventually start to sense your presence," Clare said regretfully, and his heart couldn't help but soar at her disappointment. _She wanted to be with him. _

"Well," he drawled thoughtfully, pondering. "Maybe…we don't have to say good-bye just yet."

She pulled away to looked curiously at him, whisking away all the wonderful warmth Eli loved. He almost let out a moan of lose, but restrained himself from being too vocal with his feelings.

"What do you have up your sleeve?"

"It won't be perfect, quality time together, but it's better than nothing," he informed her warningly. "I…I don't want to pressure you or anything, because it does require a certain level of risk on your part."

One side of Clare's lips pulled up in a slight grin. "You seemed to have done a little planning before," she observed.

"I, uh…" he stammered sheepishly, scratching his neck. His face was flustered from the heat of her hug. "I mean, I thought about it, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to do it. You see, some of my, erm, friends called me earlier and asked if I wanted to go somewhere. I'd really like it if you could come too."

"You have friends?" she asked innocently, earning a playful nudge from his toes.

"Oh, be quiet Edwards. You're not exactly the most popular girl at school," he said wittily, stretching out his legs. "And if it makes you feel any better, they're a completely off-beat, eclectic pair. Nothing to be jealous of."

"A haughty _and _illicit intruder," she said musingly. "I must have struck gold with you."

He chuckled. "Don't pretend to be sarcastic; I know you love me."

"Enough to potentially come home to the infinite wrath of my parents?" she grinned, only half-joking. The tinge of worry was evident on her face, for it was no secret that this was a dangerous feat. Sneaking out with a boy her mother wasn't fond of was not a typical Clare Edwards doing, and whether the amount of risk that laid atop a possible couple hours of freedom and fun and unification was worth it or not, was hard to tell. Eli was careful not to pressure her into something she didn't want to do, but he really did want her to come. The "maybe" he told his friends when they asked was solely because of Clare. He wouldn't go if she wouldn't.

"It's up to you," he shrugged, facing his palms upwards. "I'm sure we can find another time to hang out if you wanted to."

But Clare wasn't convinced by his wavering confidence, and if anything, she was sure there wouldn't an opportunity like this in a long while.

"I'll go get changed," she said briskly, surprising hm with her resolute. "Go wait outside now, and quickly, before I change my mind."

-x—

Bianca was a provocative girl with wild dark hair and perpetually pursed lips. She had a smoking cigarette between her fingers before Eli made her get rid of it, and a nasty scowl that made a presence shortly after she tossed it out the window. She smelled like spicy musk beneath the prominent redolent of smoke. Clare was eternally grateful to be sitting in the passenger seat next to Eli, because the girl intimidated the living daylights out of her.

On Bianca's left was a sullen-looking boy named Campbell, and he looked like he might be younger than Clare by a couple years. He didn't say much at all, just stared out the window and twiddled his thumbs. He was one of those people who stayed in the background of things, and save for Eli's brief hello, no one bothered to initiate a conversation with him. Only Clare couldn't help but notice how his posture said much more than his taciturnity did, and dwelled on how his slumped shoulders and slightly crinkled brows tied together. The young boy reminded her strongly of the one next to her, for there seemed to be innocent youthfulness seeping through his bleak front. A boy dying behind his mask. A boy who never seemed to belong. Campbell was the boy Eli had once been.

On the far right was Jake Martin, a collected, cool, and chill guy with boyish good looks and a good-natured grin. His arms were folded behind his head, and he seemed one hundred percent comfortable with his surroundings. Jake didn't appear to belong in this group of misfits, what with the confidence he carried himself with, but was here nonetheless. He was the first to flash Clare a friendly smile, leaning forward to address her.

"Clare," he said charmingly, as Eli started up the car. "That's a pretty name."

She could almost hear Eli rolling his eyes on the in the driver's position.

"Thanks," she smiled, twisting around to face him. "You have a nice smile, did you know?"

Jake's grin broadened.

"You're cute, Saint Clare," Bianca said, sounding bored. She never tore her eyes away from her illuminated phone. "But I think you're better off in your own league."

"Can you guys stop harassing her?" Eli asked in an irritated voice, coming to Clare's defense. "Thanks."

"It's okay," Clare said quietly, though she couldn't deny that Bianca's comment stung. She didn't have thick skin, and the sinking feeling was already surging through her body. "Where's your car, anyway?

"I sold it at the shop," he said plainly, in a tone that he used when he explained to Perino why he didn't finish his homework. Shorty, frankly, and passively. "Didn't need it anymore."

"What's wrong with my truck?" Jake inquired, feigning offence.

"What's _right _with your truck?" Bianca snubbed. "You're lucky it's night, otherwise I wouldn't be here. The paint job's a mess, the colour's atrocious, and my Volvo drives faster on snow than yours on bare street."

"Ouch. Not everyone fancies flamboyant cars, you know," he said defiantly, leaning back again against his seat.

"Idiot. Do you know what flamboyant means?" she hissed. "Your truck is a fucking red, and _my _car is flamboyant?"

"_Guys_," Eli growled threateningly.

"You better shut up Jake, or Elijah here is going to start lecturing us again," Bianca said sardonically, now rummaging through her giant purse. Some crackling noises could be heard, and Clare could have sworn she had heard Jake snicker and mutter the word _condom. _Considering whatever he said earned him a smack in the head, it wouldn't be a far-fetched guess.

"Jake, is that you again? I told you not to bring any this time, "Eli sighed. Clare frowned at his tight mood, and reached out to touch his hand.

"It wasn't me. Why would you automatically assume it was me?" he said defensively, sounding aghast.

"Who else keeps a baggie of weed in his back pocket?" Eli asked, a little bit more calmed by Clare's touch. The irritate inflection was still present, but subdued noticeably. She smiled and nodded appreciatively at him, of which Eli responded with the roll of his eyes.

"It's for emergencies," Jake explained huffily, folding his arms across his chest. He leaned forward. "I don't remember _you _complaining when we we all got-

"This is really not an appreciate time to discuss this," Eli cut him off, trying to keep his voice even.

The way they were bantering on with each other strongly implied that all three of them were quite comfortable with one another. While Eli was as terse as usual, getting irritated when anyone started to say words, none of them were fazed by it. It was as if they'd grown accustomed to each other's quirks, and for this Clare felt rather excluded. The idea that Eli could have friends outside of her wasn't unfair; she had Luke, and maybe Marisol if she counted all the times they've partnered up in class. Perhaps it was because she had thought he planned a special night for just the two of them, and as reluctant as she was to think of it, she was disappointed that it wouldn't be like that at all. She'd had to share Eli with two other people- people who were much cooler, and much more exotic than she was. So this was what he was doing when he wasn't with her- doing..._stuff _with these people. She wasn't sure whether taking Jake's drug implication to heart, but it unnerved her regardless. Also, she couldn't help but notice how much shorter his temper was with other people. Admittedly, he had started out as an irascible, volatile fireball when they met again for the first time, though it was strange to think of how much differently he treated her now. How he thawed out of his icy self, and instantly morphed into a lighter state of being. It was like he was a different person. How curious it was, indeed.

"So how did you all meet?" Clare asked politely, as Eli distracted himself by fiddling with the radio station. He settled on a nice, mellow indie song that she instantly recognized as _I Will Follow You into the Dark._ "Surely none of you go to Degrassi."

"Cam does," Jake piped up, jabbing his thumb towards the younger boy who gave Clare a half-hearted two-finger salute. She nodded kindly at him, rather glad that he wasn't completely cold. He had almost a sweet demeanor, and it was especially evident when he participated a little more actively. Campbell did not seem bothered by the fact that he was on the outside, so there was no reason why Clare should.

"Grade ten?" Clare asked, and he bobbed his head once to confirm.

"I found Eli through some connections I had. I'd explain to you, but apparently I'm not allowed to speak of it," Bianca said with a smirk, piquing Clare's curiosity. "Work-related thing."

"Oh?" Clare turned to Eli expectantly, cocking her head to the side. There goes another inside piece of information she wasn't included it, and she tried not to let it deflate her. Instead, she endeavoured to occupy her mind by picturing Eli's workplace, as she tried to so many times before. He was awfully vague about where he worked, probably because it wasn't quite as glamorous as he'd like it to be. Honestly speaking, though, what was so fabulous about working, anyways? It was no wonder he had such little patience for speaking of it.

"Shut up Bianca."

"He's so rude, too," she continued, unruffled.

"But we know he loves us," Jake gushed, reaching forward to muss Eli's hair. Eli immediately slapped his hand away, all while keeping his gaze forward. "And by love us, I mean he needed my truck and had certain obligations to fulfill in order to borrow it. Number one being that he had to drive Bee and I to wherever he was going."

"And Campbell?" Clare asked.

Nobody immediately jumped to answer, and this struck her as a little bit odd. Jake just shrugged and directed his attention towards the window, and Bianca filed her nails using her phone as a light source. Eli merely hummed along to Death Cab for Cutie, tapping on his right thigh along to the beat of the music. Of course, Campbell didn't bother to speak up for himself either, so it left Clare having to again conjure up her own rational explanation as to why he was here.

"Sorry," Eli whispered, leaning slightly over to her as Jake and Bianca fell back into another bickering conversation. She didn't ask why he was apologizing, because in some way, she knew.

_You and me, have seen everything to see_

_ From Bangkok to Calgary_

_ And the soles of your shoes,_

_ Are all worn out_

"Where are we going, anyways?" she whispered back, peering ahead where there was infinite darkness. The headlights of the truck were poor and only shone on road a couple feet ahead, and it felt as if they were driving with no particular destination in mind. Clare deliberately clutched her small cross-body bag tighter on her lap, as if loosening her grip even the slightest would cause it to fall into the dark abyss that was the floor of the car. She never quite liked the night.

_But it's nothing to cry about_

_ As we'll hold each other soon_

_ In the blackest of rooms_

"To do something you're terrified of," Eli answered casually, turning up the volume. His lips twitched. "That's number two on the list, isn't it?"

Ahhh, now it made sense. Clare didn't know whether it was appropriate to be anxious or to smile at his reference, so she outwardly settled for the latter. Inwardly, she thought of all her fears that he knew about. "You're still keeping up with that?"

"I promised you, didn't I?"

_If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks_

_I'll follow you into the dark_

With the car halted before a red light, for a fleeting moment Eli was free to gaze at Clare with soft, liquid- honey eyes. He had one hand resting atop the steering wheel, and he was turned slightly towards her in a manner that was far too inviting. She instinctively turned to glanced out the window, pretending to occupy herself with the dark scenery before her. Only too bad for her, all she could see was his reflection of the glass, and the eyes that were staring at her.

She slowly willed herself to face him, turning her head like her neck was chained down and heavy. There was too much in the atmosphere, something of the subtle lowering of his voice that made the energy between them tangible and real.

Absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

Jake's chuckle in the background snapped Clare out of her trance, and she quickly tore her gaze away again.

"Green light," Campbell called out only a heartbeat later, and Eli stamped his foot down. The car lurched forward, causing Bianca to let out hiss of cuss words.

"Damn it, Eli, what are you doing up there?" she growled, wiping off the misplaced lipstick on her face. "You better not be getting off at my expense."

"Shut up Bianca," he said for the umpteenth time, gritting his teeth. Only Clare could detect the faintest of blush staining his cheeks, but this time she didn't giggle. Her stomach lurched, and she shifted away from him.

"Turn left, Eli. I think we're here," Jake said, craning his neck.

They swerved into a tiny parking lot, parking haphazardly in between two spaces- it didn't matter much, considering it was empty. Some distance ahead was a closed convenience store, and Clare squinted to make sure it really was a convenience store.

"We're not robbing a convenience store, are we?" Clare fretted, as everyone unbuckled their seatbelt. Jake let out a great bark of laughter, shaking his head.

"Bianca's right. You are cute."

All five of them started towards a dark building around the corner, with Campbell and Clare lagging behind. Neither of them seemed to have a single clue where they were headed, but Clare decided that she had already asked enough questions as it was. She realized that their entire relationship was composed of this- her asking a multitude of questions that would never be answered, -or if answered at all, they would be answered very vaguely- and he keeping her guessing. _Blind trust, blind trust._

"You can walk ahead," she said, as Eli slowed his strides to match hers. "I'll stay back here."

He didn't look too happy about her proposition, but she just waved him away. "You sure?" She prodded his forward, watching Bianca flip her voluminous hair."Just go."

Purposely allowing the three to gain some distance ahead of her, Clare waited until Campbell was a few steps behind before giving him a shy look. He certainly looked very young and slight now that he was standing, but nothing about his exuded juvenility. He strode with his hands in his pocket like Eli did all the time and with head down to block everything out. He hadn't even noticed Clare waiting for him until he nearly rammed into her.

"I-sorry, I wasn't looking," he apologized genuinely, staggering backwards and widening his doe-like eyes. Something about the boy made her ache to reach out, as she found his brooding conduct not a way to keep people out. Rather, it was almost like a quiet plea for help, faint but audible.

"It's fine, I just wanted to walk with you," she stated timidly, scratching her head awkwardly. "Do you mind?"

He shook his head, and Clare smiled appreciatively at him. He was good company, Campbell, mostly because he didn't like to talk too much. There was nothing intimidating about him, nothing that made her feel like she was obligated to carry out a conversation. Eventually, curiosity got the best out of her, and she began to ask questions.

"So how come I've never seen you around Degrassi before?" she said inquiringly, thinking about all the tenners she could recall from memory. A few fuzzy faces without names came up, and Campbell certainly not one of them.

"I'm new," he said, walking with what looked to be heavy steps. "And I've also been spending most of my time at hockey practices.

"Oh. Dallas' team."

He inclined her head towards her. "You know him?"

Clare chuckled darkly to herself, hesitating to say what she really felt about Mike Dallas in fear that she would offend him. "I've had the pleasure."

Campbell let out a desolate sigh. "There's not a single person that I've met in Degrassi who doesn't know Dallas. It's like he's some legend, but he still looks to me to carry the team."

She frowned, scrutinizing him. "Hmm. What's your last name, Campbell?"

"Saunders."

"Ohh, now I know who you are," she nodded. "My dad had read about you in the local papers. You've already gotten drafted for the NHL, haven't you?"

He made a face, roughly kicking at a random stone on the ground. "They must have made some mistake. They should have drafted more experienced guys like him and Owen, who're in their last years. Not me."

"They must see something in you that they don't see in the others then," she encouraged gently, unintentionally causing his cringe to deepen further. It was as if she had said something that hit a nerve, and try as she might, Clare didn't understand what it was that upset him. "Or…not?"

He sniffled, bowing his head down. He had the face of a warrior, and also that of a kid. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked in a small voice, as they neared the building.

"Cross my heart," she confirmed firmly, holding her chest. The younger boy smiled ruefully at her, but as gradually as the smile had appeared, it vanished in the time span of a millisecond.

"I don't even like hockey," he whispered.

"Guys, hurry up!" Jake whispered loudly, waving them over to the door that they had somehow opened. "Shit, this door is heavy," he groaned, struggling to keep it open. The two took his grunting as an indication that he wouldn't be able to hold it much longer, and so they hastened to speed up their pace, putting an end to their conversation. It must have been five inches thick, that door, and coated with heavy-duty steel. Quietly they slipped in, and Clare discreetly receded to allow Campbell to enter first.

They were met by a series of dark hallways, long and narrow and incessant. She took cue to walk on the balls of her feet, an instinct that took over when she quickly realized the entire gang was silent. About midway in, an arm found a way to encircled around her, and she assumed it was Eli. But the smell was all wrong- too much like aftershave. The figure pressed against her was also too tall...

She let out a squeak, and the light of Bianca's phone flashed on at once. It turned out to be Jake, impishly grinning and with his arm around her waist.

"Hi, Clare," he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows.

A dull thumping sound ensued.

"Don't touch her," Eli hissed, beside her in a flash. His arm possessively snaked around her, and he purposely positioned himself so that he was in between her and the handsy Jake. He glared at the taller boy, who was rubbing his shoulders and sheepishly hurrying ahead. He and Bianca weren't fazed even the slightest when the decision between left and right was to be made, and neither was Eli.

"You guys seem to know your way pretty well," Campbell observed, now shuffling behind Clare. "Is this a regular occurrence?"

"For Bianca and I," Jake smirked, offering a fist pump to the girl trotting ahead. She obliged, a similar smug look on her face. "Eli's still kind of a newbie."

"Doesn't act like one, though," Bianca rolled her eyes, halting in front of a heavy-looking, metal door. Examining her nails while waiting for Jake to open it, she added "For the short while I've known him, Eli has never been excited about anything. Ever. The little fucker is a cool cucumber at the face of the devil."

"Superior dick. He acted like we just showed him a fucking sausage on a stick or something," Jake shook his head.

"Hey now," Eli cautioned with a smirk. "I said I enjoyed it, didn't I?"

"It's brilliant," Bianca said firmly. "Simple and brilliant."

"That's great," Clare said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "But what exactly is _it_?"

Jake grinned widely, gripping the handle. "Maybe I present to you, "he began in a low, throaty rumble, attempting to build up the suspense, "a prime destination in the path of teenage freedom and recklessness, a place that has brought utmost joy to teenage creatures all across the globe-"

"For God's sake, nobody has time for that," Bianca groaned, slapping Jake aside. She took it upon herself to open the door with astonishing upper-arm strength, revealing…

-x-

"A pool," Campbell said plainly, his voice echoing throughout the room.

A massive wave of heavy, artificial heat swept through the five of them, the cloying redolent of chlorine evading their nostrils. It was a giant pool alright, in its crystal-blue glory and long white diving board perched at the deep end. The cleaning nets and lifesaver were neatly hung up on the side, and the floors were scrubbed and dry. Everything about it screamed immaculateness - a place cleaned up especially for them and free of any traces of public use. Eli wore a grin of satisfaction, quite pleased with the conditions. The poor managers of this community pool should really start installing security cameras to keep out miscreants not unlike themselves.

He turned to look at Clare, stifling a grin when he saw that she was stupefied. Her mouth formed a perfect little O of bafflement, as if a pool was the very last thing she had expected to see. Beside her, Campbell simply looked confused. Eli wished he had a camera to capture this humorous moment, as it really was quite hilarious.

"Ready Bee?" Jake said breathlessly, zeroing in on the pristine water.

"Martin, I was born ready," she replied fiercely, nudging Campbell in the ribs. "Watch and learn, kid. You'll thank me later."

Campbell didn't have enough time to absorb her words before Jake let out a below. And to Clare's utterly comical horror, which Eli seriously had to cover his mouth to stop from guffawing, brazen stripping ensued. Coat were peeled off and haphazardly thrown to the side, jeans were shimmied out of, and shoes were kicked off without a single care of where they landed. As Jake fumbled with his belt, Bianca was the first to jump in the water with only her undergarments on, letting out a triumphant "ah-ha" before she was completely submerged. She popped up a couple seconds later, giving Jake a superior smile.

"Is that…is that even legal?" Campbell asked in astonishment, reddening at the sight of Bianca's abandoned clothes.

"No, I'm pretty sure we're breaking and entering," Clare gaped in disbelief.

"Kid, why don't you join us?" Bianca called out to Campbell, waving him over with her wet arm. She flashed him a mischievous smile, treading water with ease in the deep end. "The water feels amazing."

"I'll say," Jake sighed, floating on his back. His temporarily shut eyes snapped open, fixating on the dry, fully-clothed teens. "What are you waiting for?"

Campbell and Clare shared a look of mutual bewilderment, equally unsure of what to do at a moment like this. But Campbell was the first to oblige, shaking his head and grinning softly. Then without warning, he yanked off his hockey jacket and proceeded to take off the rest of his clothing, sprinting off in the same manner Bianca did.

"God, this is exactly what I needed," he breathed, as soon as he broke the surface. His hair was soaked to the core as was his face, and for the first time since Eli had seen him, he looked at ease.

"Hey Cam, I'll race you," Jake challenged juvenilely, receiving a confident, full-blown grin in answer.

"You're on."

Then there were two.

"Well, Clare?" Eli nudged her with his elbow, gauging her expression. Her disbelief had gradually melted to something of a toned-down fear, sheer and incredibly transparent. There was no need to hazard a guess of what she could possibly be thinking.

"Eli, I can't swim," she said a hushed voice.

"I know," he nodded. "When you were eight and I was nine, Marisol had a water party in her backyard during the summer. You were petrified of the inflatable kiddie pool and stayed inside the entire day."

"Well, thank you for brining that up," she said darkly, causing him to snicker.

"All I'm saying is, you've always been scared of swimming. And what better way to celebrate teenage rebellion than by doing exactly that?"

"An interesting outlook, but, no I really can't," Clare vigorously shook her head, taking tentative steps backwards. She wrapped her arms around herself, eyeing the splashes of water here and there. "You can go ahead, I'll just watch."

Eli peered at her fondly, taking in the slight quiver of her voice as well as the obstinacy- it was a contradicting pair, really. He definitely had his work cut out for him, as Clare was particularly adamant from the look in her eyes. The cogency of most of her resisting was not a problem because she was usually easy to persuade, but as he could tell right off the bat, this just happened to be an exception.

Though on a side note, it was amusing to him how she seemed to be more bothered by the thought of being submerged in water rather than the fact that she would have to strip down. Soon his gaze couldn't resist trailing down the length of her body, drinking in some more of her. The boyish part of him wondered how she looked like with significantly less clothing, how much more prominent her wisps of curves would appear without anything draped over them. She really was quite lovely in the ethereal sense. The unconventional sense. And he was dying of curiosity.

_Well shit, even in his head he sounded like some sick, testosterone-fueled skirt-chasing cad!_ Eli bit down hard on his lip, strenuously attempting to tone down his keen thoughts all to no avail. He wasn't usually like this- he wasn't one of those perpetually horny sickos on TV who had a weekly goal of getting laid. Rash, snarky, and sardonic were words to describe him, but he was chivalrous if anything else. Eli strictly controlled himself from thinking of any woman in such an offensive manner, because they were not meat and deserved to be looked at with respect- even when Bianca tried to tempt him the first time around, teasing him mercilessly, he merely kept his eyes to himself. With Clare…well, it wasn't exactly lust. It did think about her quite often in that way, but as he had affirmed within himself before, the thoughts were simply derived from curiosity and a longing to know every part of her. Beyond the patience and inexhaustible kindness, there was so much more he wasn't aware of, and he wished fervently to change that.

Curb yourself, Goldsworthy. Curb yourself.

"We don't have to go to the deep end," he told her soothingly, tracing the length of her arm with his fingers from behind her.

"I'll find a way to drown anyway," she frowned.

"I'll even hold you, see-look," he offered, lightly encircling his arms around her waist. "I won't let you drown. Promise."

That was the magic word. She turned slightly, locking her gaze with his.

"Pinky promise?"

He smiled. "Yeah."

Clare inhaled sharply, slipping her fingers through Eli's for a long moment, as if trying to memorize how he felt before they proceeded. He took advantage of her leaning back into him by gently resting his chin on her shoulder, inclining his lips so that they were ghosting the shell of her ear.

"I can ask everyone to cover their eyes if you want," he murmured, faintly intoxicated by her scent. "I don't want you to go home with wet clothes."

She shivered, hesitating. "It'll probably draw more attention to me. Just...don't look, okay?"

"Yes Eli, don't be peeking at Clare now," Bianca said slyly, propping her elbows up on the ledge of the pool. Eli sent her a dirty glare from behind Clare, earning himself a tongue-stick out.

"Take your time. I'll just wait on the steps, alright?"

She smiled. "My first swimming instructor."

He winked, letting her go.

As he whirled around to peel off his jacket, hoodie, and shirt, a thick hazy fog clouded his brain. Eli was suddenly cognizant of how sweaty his palms were becoming, and wiped them roughly on his pants. Incongruously, and after stopping himself from instinctively turning around to see if anyone was looking, he took a quick whiff of his armpits to make sure they were okay. The chlorine was probably much more potent than any amount of B.O he could produce, but he would still feel disgusted with himself for holding Clare when he smelled. She always smelled good. His torso was suddenly too white, his arms too scrawny under his critical glare. Would she think that his naked legs were too skinny for her likely? He was certainly more than capable of throwing a punch, even though his exterior said otherwise, but would Clare prefer him to look more muscular?

Jeez, he was a raging mess. He really needed to stop and take a breather, because the thought of him and Clare being half-naked together was really nerve-wrecking. Years of being a lukewarm troglodyte was coming back to bite him all at once. Even though there was that one girl he basically dry-humped at the club –cringe-, he had essentially no experience when it came to these things. Casual fucking as an empty shell and zero emotions? Sure, no problem. Physical contact like that didn't faze him. But the intimacy of being close to a girl he really, really cared about?

From his peripheral vision, he could see Clare setting down her sweater in a neat pile next to her other things. He gulped nervously, walking straight towards the top step. His heart was beating erratically in his chest as he dipped his feet in the water, shuddering at the initial coolness. He shut his eyes to relax himself, until a small hand touched his arm.

Two eyes as blue as the water gazed back at him, expressing nothing but unconditional trust. Eli saw creamy décolletage and bare shoulders, which automatically sent his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He swallowed, moving his arms to where home was for him- right around her waist.

"It's going to be cold at first, and it's usually better to go all in. But we can take it slow."

Clare, holding his hand gingerly, stepped in. She flinched immediately. "This is really cold."

He laughed, clutching her tighter. "Then I supposed we better go down all at once."

Having an excuse to lower his eyes, pretending to concentrate on where she stepped down, Eli was able to catch a couple glimpses of her body. Tiny sparks effervesced with thrill as pink and blue frills along the edge of her underwear registered. Very girly, and very Clare-like.

"Eli!" she squeaked, misjudging the height of a step and flailing forward. The fall wouldn't have been very deep, but Eli didn't dither in steadying her. She had one hand pressed firmly on the ledge, the other arm wrapped like a choke hold around his neck.

"Easy," he said calmly. "And Jake stop staring at her, or I'll snap your neck off."

Clare turned beet-red, and her face quickly contrasted greatly from her chest.

"What? She's doing great," Jake said innocently, drawing forward with Campbell close behind.

"Here, Clare, give me your hand," he offered, extending a wet one. The younger boy smiled invitingly at Clare- exclusively at Clare.

She smiled back, reaching out to seize his hand. Along with his support, he and Eli managed to get her down all the way. The water reached someplace just above her breasts because she was so short, and Campbell dipped underwater to check if her feet were flat on the floor.

"Yep, you're in," he confirmed, slicking his hair out of his face.

"No! Don't let go yet!" she said in a panic, frantically fumbling for Campbell's hand. She turned frenetically to Eli." Don't let go of me ever."

"I don't know Clare, you seem perfectly fine," Eli grinned, winking at Campbell. "Hey Cam, do you want to race?"

He grinned back, "Only really badly."

Eli teasingly loosened his hold on Clare, causing an instant surge of terror to shoot through her. Gasping in alarm, she flung herself around him, latching onto Eli with a death-grip.

"_Don't!_" she squealed.

"Aw, no, Edwards, don't do that," he groaned, adverting to the alarming proximity. No, no, no, he couldn't handle this much touching, this much intimacy no matter how unintentional.

But Clare held him securely, whimpering and wrapping her legs around him. It suddenly dawned on him that he was in risk of having an embarrassing reaction because of what she was doing, so he hastened to change the rhythm of things.

"Fine. Then you better take a big breath…."

A short look of horror flashed on her face before water blurred everything out. Eli dunked her as well as himself under for brief second, and came back up again with an impish smirk. Her curls were plastered over her face, her eyes fused shut. She was gasping for air, coughing and choking, and Eli thought it would be best to hoist her up onto the ledge. After she was sitting steadily and began to recover, he floated on his back, initially ignorant. It wasn't until Bianca cleared her throat loudly that he realized he had a full, perfect view of Clare.

Her bra was white with pink flowers on it. He nearly went into cardiac arrest and drowned.

"I hate you," she rasped, pulling up her knees and wrapping her arms around them,

"But I bet Eli doesn't hate you," Jake sniggered in an undertone.

"Sorry, did you say something Jake?" Clare asked hoarsely, looking at him.

"Nothing," he sang angelically, gracefully diving into the water again. Bianca let out a snort of laughter.

"Shut up," Eli muttered, slapping some more water on his cheeks to reduce the heat. He tried his best to act nonchalant. In his head, he was carefully storing away the wonderful image he had the privilege of seeing-first hand, hoping that it would be forever etched on his brain. After all, he thought with a sinking realization, he probably wouldn't ever have a reason to see her like this again.

"I think I'm done," Clare said, chest heaving visibly.

"No, you're not," he countered, lifting himself to a standing position. "Not unless you jump in the water-at least once."

Her eyes were bugging out of her head. "Are you serious?"

He gave her the most serious expression he could muster. "I have never been more serious in my entire life."

Tick-tock.

They simultaneously burst into laughter. Their laughs blended harmoniously, lighting up the entire room.

"Okay, but really, you should jump," Eli insisted, still clutching his aching sides. "I'll catch you, and then we can go home. Simple- easy. I'll be right here, and-"

Without warning, Clare puffed up her cheeks with air and flopped in- a true act of complete trust that nearly took his breath away. Eli's arms shot out quickly, catching her just as she hit the surface. In the background, someone whooped and hollered, clapping loudly. He presumed it was Jake being his boisterous self, and just rolled his eyes with a smug grin on his face. It appeared as if grinning was all he was doing tonight, and his reason for it popped up before him shortly after.

"There," she gasped, clutching onto him," I faced my fears. Do I feel infinite yet?"

Eli chortled, despite the confused noises coming from the other three. He couldn't repress it; it was too damn funny.

"Actually, the whole thing wasn't really necessarily," he admitted, pressing her gently against the pool wall. He didn't know how it happened, but he swiftly recognized that in a spontaneous act of carelessness, his face was hovering closely above her. Their noses brushed each other, teasing, bringing out the fact that their lips were so closes. Eli could feel her heartbeat raging at almost the same volume and urgency his was, and leaned forward a little more. To his breathtaking shock, she did the same. Shyly, but unyielding. "I just really wanted you to experience more of life."

Clare glanced down meaningfully to his lips, than up to his eyes again. Their sweet breaths melded together, making the other little details nebulous. How her hands rested atop his shoulders was tender, but insignificant in comparison. How his fingers were splayed over her torso was of little importance as well. A fact that did not pass them both by was where exactly the placement of his right knee was, which was something that contributed greatly to their beating hearts. His knee was placed firmly between her legs to support her weight, something that was without a doubt the most intimate gesture they've shared throughout their entire innocent tenure as "friends". The title "friends" came with air quotes, for both of them knew all too well that they were not just that. There was far too much chemistry that lay atop their sturdy foundation, too much to be dismissed. And this chemistry burst into an explosion of heated fireworks, no longer able to be kept a secret.

Eli bent towards her slowly but surely, emitting impossible heat. What felt like a million years of closing the distance came to a soft end as she met him halfway, capturing his fiery lips with utmost affection and care. They kissed, tenderly and deeply, and before they knew it, mouths were pried open and hot breaths were being shared. Sweet, gentle, but steaming with a deeply yearning that was derived from repressed feelings. They lips were fused for an undetermined period of time, as neither was willing to pull back first.

"Oh my God," Eli breathed, as they stopped for much-needed oxygen. In that moment he felt glorious. It was as if he had never hurt before in his life, never been angry or lost anything he cared about. It was like all the wounds that left scars on his heart were freshly healed, because in that moment he felt complete. He felt like he was flying. He felt like infinite.

He felt love.

"Eli," she whispered breathlessly, palming his burning cheek.

And he was deathly afraid of letting that go.

"Come home with me," he whispered imploringly, as Clare stroked his face.

"My mom- Dallas," she reasoned with him, though by the way to sounded, she was tempted.

"I don't care," Eli said resolutely, throwing all caution to the wind. He searched her, taking her in with everything he had. "I can't do this anymore Clare. I have so much to tell you, and I can't hide it from you anymore."


	12. Chapter 12

It was chilly back inside the car, but all Clare could feel was the warmth of Eli's kiss surging through her shivering body. The way he tasted was not something she could describe in words, for he tasted something like a crisp autumn day and white marshmallows in the cloying heat of summer. Granted, she had nothing to compare to, as he was her first and only kiss ever. She always imagine her first to be sweet and chaste on the lips, something gentle as a prince would kiss Snow White- that was not saying that Eli was rough or aggressive with her, but he certainly didn't hold back a whole lot. There was ardency on a level she'd never seen before, the feeling of repressed desires poured into one steaming connection. His hands fumbled a lot at her waist, trying with strenuous, desperate effort to hold her as close as physically possible. She remembered her breath hitching audibly when he hiked his leg up between both of hers, subtly rubbing against in a way she that knew was intentional. The fervour escalated quickly, and to her surprise, she didn't have any troubles keeping up despite how fast the transition from light and superficial to heavy and passion-laden was.

Clare touched her lips delicately, her heart accelerating as she remembered the look on his face when they pulled away for air. Everything was impassive except for his eyes- his eyes, green like forests and hunters, had darkened until they were almost black. His pupils dilated, and he was vulnerable. Gone were the walls he had so carefully built up around him, displaying the unseen starkness situated deep within the core. He was so beautiful and tainted, and the combination was toxic on the tip of her tongue.

It was soon, shortly after Eli's expressive pleading for her to go home with him that Jake declared it was time to leave, as the wrinkles on the pads of his fingers were beginning to hinder his enjoyment. Save for Bianca's curious perusal of her, Clare had been free to frantically make a decision as she dressed. Her mind was mush as she dried herself with the towel Cam handed her, and the redness from her face did not fade until long after they were in Jake's truck. Her legs were a wobbly mess- somebody had to pinch her, because she honestly didn't feel like anything was real. Had he really kissed her? The guy she's had so much history with, and have had a furious liking towards for quite some time?

As guys and girls migrated on opposite sides of the pool room to dress, Clare found herself being shadowed.

"That sweater doesn't require you to wear a bra, Edwards," Bianca had said conversationally, unfolding a large towel. "You'll never be warm if something wet is clinging against you. Here, let me cover you."

Clare blinked, taken aback by the sudden act of consideration, but obliged. With Bianca shielding the boys' line of vision, she felt slightly more comfortable changing into the soft cashmere material.

"Thanks," Clare said gratefully, wadding up the undergarment in a ball before stuffing it into her bag. "How'd you change so fast?"

The older girl smiled at her- it was a cross between something of a smile and a smirk, but kinder than she had seen before nonetheless.

"Experience," she said smugly, grabbing a hold of Clare's shoulders and spinning her around. "Jake and I fool around a lot when his dad's at the cottage, and sometime the man likes you come home early."

"So Jake's your boyfriend," Clare said to clarify, solely for conversational purposes. She allowed Bianca to dry her hair with a smaller towel, running her fingers through the knotted strands every now and again. She didn't protest, partially because her hair really was dripping, and partially because she was reluctant to reverse this unforeseen kindness. It was quite unexpected, really, but not unwelcomed.

"I don't do boyfriends," she shrugged, tugging on a particularly tangled bunch. "But we're not here to take about me. I want to talk about you."

"I'm really not that interesting."

"That was my initial thought," Bianca said brazenly, wiping her damp hands on her towel. "I didn't really understand why Eli would go through so much effort to bring some innocent prude to our secret location. It didn't make sense to me at all."

Clare's jaws dropped at the harshness of her statements. "Ouch."

She shrugged again. "It might have been wrong, but that was the vibe I picked up. I expect you're a virgin?"

"Is it obvious?" Clare mumbled darkly, thinking back to when Dallas stopped her at her locker. She shuddered involuntarily, vigorously rubbing her upper arms. Was she leaking some potent fluid that made her status so obvious to everyone but her? Or perhaps, she should just wear a sign on her forehead that said "virgin", as clearly, it was that evident.

"Don't be ashamed of it," Bianca said, fiddling with her earrings, obviously stalling for time. Every so often in the corner of her eye, she would glance briefly at the boys to check on what they were doing, making sure that they seemed busy. She didn't seem quite in a hurry to end their conversation, and Clare wasn't sure if feeling special or scared was the appropriate reaction. Nevertheless, Clare busied herself by patting the visible parts of her skin dry, earning an unspoken approval from the older girl. "If I could go back in time, I would save my first time for a guy I actually knew the name of. But like I said, I'm not here to take about me."

She paused briefly. "I want to talk to you about Eli."

Clare's hands halted, before slowly and cautiously regaining their pace again." What about Eli?" she asked warily, sensing territory that hasn't been treaded upon before.

Her wariness was quickly proven to be futile, as Bianca jumped right into her point without hesitating in the slightest. "The fact that you don't see the way he looks at you- and hey, I'm just someone who's walked in a few weeks ago," she said, defensively putting up her palms. "But God, Clare, I have to ask you so many things. First of all, you know the guy's heads over heel for you, right?"

"I…when you say it like that…" Clare smiled bashfully, embarrassed. She scratched her head, averting her gaze. "I mean, I can only hope he does..."

Bianca shook her head, grinning slightly. "There's no need for that. He's all yours, honey. It's like he's the Heroin addict in the scenario, having undergone years of painful rehabilitation, and you're…something that overpowers it. Something that makes Heroin seem like a fucking dust bunny. I don't know, it's just so fucking rare to see something like that, you know?"

"A dust bunny, Bianca?" Clare giggled.

"Yeah, a fucking dust bunny," she laughed. "He wouldn't let me bring the good stuff tonight, and there isn't a doubt in my mind that it's because of you. What dark magic are you putting him under, Edwards?"

"You're exaggerating," Clare said in a reasonable tone, although admittedly, she quite liked someone reassuring her of Eli's feelings for her. "And besides- why is it so weird to you that Eli has feelings for someone? You're saying it like it's a once in a life time kind of thing."

An uncharacteristically sad look crossed her usually confident eyes, revealing that there was a deeper motive for this discussion. At this, Clare felt her heart freeze over with the unnerving possibility that Bianca could actually have a liking towards Eli. She may be jumping to the worst possible scenario here, but Bianca was beautiful- so strong, so sure of herself. A great deal more willing than Clare would ever be, considering she didn't even hesitate before stripping down. She was a girl who didn't appear as the type to falter and wait for a guy to pick her up, and if she had the intention of pursuing him, what chance did Clare really have?

"You don't…like him, do you?" Clare asked quietly, trying to keep the discouragement out of her voice.

"Not in that way, no," Bianca said with a weak smile, allowing Clare to make the mistake of sighing too loudly. "Not that I would be a threat to you, anyway. Come on, now, after the whole Heroin analogy?" Clare smiled back, prodding her with her warm eyes. "It's just…just fuck Eli for one second, alright?"

The smile gradually melted, as incomprehension dawned on her face.

"Excuse me?" Clare gasped, wondering if it were entirely possible for Bianca to be telling her to fuck Eli. Like, _literally. _

"No, no, not literally. God," Bianca said hastily, whipping her towel around her arm. With her towel-wrapped arm, she led Clare further away from the boys, pretending to fetch another dry towel. She lowered her voice, leaning into her. "You know the thing Eli was being all vague about earlier? The thing Jake and I aren't supposed to tell you about? To be honest, I don't get why he insisted on keeping it a secret, it makes no damn sense-"

"Oh, please tell me," Clare said breathlessly, eyes widening. "Eli's so good at keeping things to himself, it's impossible to get him to tell me anything."

Bianca flipped her hair back, eyes shining with intent. She grinned broadly. "I like where this is going. Gossiping is totally my forte, Edwards."

"But wait, if Eli specifically requested that you not tell me, it must be for a reason, right?" Clare pondered worriedly, back-pedalling abruptly.

"No, shut up, I'm telling you anyway," Bianca waved her dismissively, paying no attention to her deliberation as she flew into the story she was obviously dying to get out. Clare pressed her lips together and listened obediently, the curious side of her evidently more prominent. Oh, and it was an exciting thing, finally having your curiosity assuaged. Clare listened with keen ears and watched with unwavering interest, eager to hear what Eli had been restraining.

"Okay, so he has a job- you already know that. But it's not your typical coffee shop, cashier, part-time sort of thing. He's an artist, if that doesn't sound like a totally crappy way of living. He draws portraits of anyone who wants it, so he has all these people modelling in his living room and shit. They book appointments with him, they come in, he draws them, and then he gets paid just like that. It's a pretty fucking brilliant idea, if you ask me."

"Okay, now could you explain without the excessive swearing?" Clare winced, trying to absorb. Every curse word felt like poison dipping into her ears, causing an unpleasant sensation to spread through her insides. And Heaven knew Bianca really liked to swear.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Anyways, so I was at the club one night, and one of my girlfriends was telling me about this troubled artist guy. She showed me the picture he drew of her, and fu- I mean, freak, it was incredible. Seriously, you have to see his work. He's got one hell of a talent."

Bianca paused to draw a breath, narrowing her eyes.

"'Hell's' not a bad word, alright? We can soap out your ear later, just listen.

"So she gives me his business card with the directions, and I drag Jake along. Turns out, his apartment's located in the most ghetto area of Toronto and it's kind of run-down. I didn't give it much thought, just stripped down and let him draw me. He gave me freedom to pose however I wanted, so obviously I chose the no-clothing option. I haven't gotten a drawing of me like that, so I was pretty pumped about it. It was honestly the weirdest experience ever, and don't think I'm a total slut for thinking this, but God, he just looked at me like I was a piece of furniture!" She let out a huffy breath, folding her arms across her chest. "In fact, if I hadn't seen the picture, I would have been convinced he was drawing the couch."

"Okay," Clare said, only because at this point, Bianca was waiting for a response. Her mind was oddly blank; she struck white canvas at the apartment part, and was unable to process much of anything at the naked component.

"My point is," Bianca inhaled sharply, reaching to the near end of her long-winded story, "is that I've never had a guy not look at me before. Ever. At first, I figured he had to be gay-"

"Just because a guy wasn't lusting after you, automatically means he's gay?" Clare asked curtly, surprised by how insecure she was feeling. She thought that finally knowing would help to relieve some of her anxiety. She hadn't at all expected that the polar opposite would happen.

Bianca stared hard at Clare. "Just tell me how you do it. How do I make a guy look at me like that?"

"You want _my _advice?"

"If you want to get official," Bianca shrugged, but the determination was clear in her eyes. Bizarrely enough, she wanted Clare's help…to get a guy to fall in love with her. As if Clare wasn't already trying to figure it all out herself. "I'm not going to beg…but I'm pretty sure what I just told you was valuable info, and it'd be great if you returned the favour. What do you say?"

"Bianca, I think you've got me mistaken," Clare said, half laughing. The laugh was mirthless, though; she was a little too stunned for genuine humour. "I'm honestly the last person you want to go to for these kinds of things."

"You're wrong," she told her blatantly, unable to stop herself. She was harsh by nature, Clare had to remind herself. "Stop being so fucking modest and help me, now would you?"

Again, Bianca turned around to glance at the boys, but what Clare noticed this time was that her line of vision was always on one in particular- the tallest and lankiest of the bunch, who was currently whipping his towel are and pretending to be a superhero. Campbell was laughing heartily at Jake's imitation, his own towel lazily slung over his shoulder. Eli was just leaning against the wall, smirking amusedly and their juvenile antics. Even from a distance, though, she could see the anxiousness swimming in his muddled green eyes, having been left hanging by her disorientation and inability to make decisions quickly. The boy certainly had a lot of explaining to do.

"At some point, 'fooling around' loses its shine, doesn't it?" Clare said quietly, as Jake let out a roar of laughter. He laughed jovially, blissfully unaware of the gorgeous girl who was eyeing him with intent and meaning. Clare almost wanted to join him upon seeing Bianca's face, knowing for a fact that she wore that look not long ago. Boys were simply a convoluted creature- which was an oxymoron because there was nothing simple about it-, and it'd be almost a crime to turn her down when she knew exactly how it felt- the frustration, and yes, the inevitable desperation peeking through after a long, tiresome, incessant, winding journey of heart pangs and fallen expectations. It was silly for anyone to think that just because you weren't in a technical relationship, that the feelings aren't valid. She and Eli were living proof. He had given her an enormous amount to cry about, and they weren't even together.

_Yet,_ whispered hope. _They weren't together _yet.

Bianca said nothing, just gazed longing at him.

"How about this: whenever you're free, we can find time to grab some coffee and talk. Then we can hatch some plan to get him where you want him to be," Clare offered good-naturedly. "Does that sound remotely appealing to you?"

She smiled gratefully, tossing her towel over her shoulder. "That sounds fucking fantastic, Clare."

And somehow, they walk from the pool to the car wasn't much different. Bianca went over her entire timetable for the week with Clare, ruling out the odd times she made plans with her friends. They discussed potential time slots the entire duration of the ride, frequently veering off to alternative topics that made them cringe and smile. Clare found it very weird to be talking to Bianca in the way that she did, mostly because she was so different from her. She was certainly a straightforward type of person, and Clare found her brutal honestly oddly refreshing. Bianca knew exactly what she wanted and what she felt, and it was a quality she admired very much.

When she and Jake hopped off at the front of his house (Eli was borrowing the truck for the night), typing in Clare's number into her phone as she did, Bianca further surprised her by seizing her wrist.

"Mark down this Saturday as well," she said firmly, holding the car door ajar. "You and I are going department store shopping."

Clare blinked. "Like The Bay, you mean?"

Bianca grinned. "See you later, Edwards."

Eli made a U-turn after the two were dropped off, neglecting to even ask Campbell where he lived. Clare assumed there were arrangements made prior to her arrival, and it was during the sharp turn that she realized her time with Campbell was quickly dwindling. She liked the boy very much, and wasn't ready to let him leave quite yet.

"Hi Campbell," she said sweetly, unbuckling her seatbelt to scoot over to the middle seat. "How are you?"

"Hello Clare," he said just as sweetly, smiling warmly at her. "Tonight was the most fun I had in a while. Do you think we can do this again sometime?"

Campbell looked like a young child coming home from the amusement park, in the sense that his happiness was still breathless on his face and his smile was shinning with delight. It was a complete turnover from the sullen boy she had first seen. The cheerfulness he was exuding was enough to thaw out the heart of the most callous human being, and Clare was extremely reluctant to discourage this newfound joy. Though inside, she knew that if her mom was awake, she'd be slaughtered before any chance of doing this all again, and it would be most prudent not to give him false hope.

"Maybe," she said evasively, reaching out to pole the thick string tied around his wrist. "I'm glad you had fun, though. What's this?"

"Hockey thing," he said carelessly, tugging on the sleeve of his coat to cover it. "As long as I'm on the team, I can't take it off."

"And you hate hockey," she thought out loud, thinking back to their earlier conversation.

Campbell smiled sadly. "Nothing like a constant reminder of something you can't stand. Which reminds me, I have practice bright and early tomorrow morning."

Clare peered cautiously at him.

"I'm so excited, if you can't tell from the inflection in my voice."

"Well, have you thought about taking a break from it?" she suggested, as Eli snorted. "Focus on doing things you actually like, I mean."

He pressed his lips together, looking skeptical. "I like hanging out with you guys, but I can't…"

"We can figure something out," she said encouragingly. "Apparently, I'm going shopping with Bianca, so if you want to tag along-"

"Clare, the whole point of this is to find something he actually likes," Eli chimed in sarcastically, turning into a neighbourhood.

"Shopping is fun," she said uncertainly, fooling no one. Campbell chuckled at her pitiful efforts, wiping his window clean of fog. Along the entire strip of houses, there was only one not far in the distant with its outdoor light on. It was too dark to see much of anything else, despite the street lights shining dimly on the road, and Clare was pretty sure his stop was getting close.

"Thanks for the ride, Eli," Campbell said, climbing out. He scratched his head awkwardly. "And thanks for…"

"Don't mention it," Eli said simply, waving him off dismissively.

Campbell grinned a little sheepishly, but also a little sadly. "Bye, Clare," he said softly, closing the door before her.

-x—

When the two of them remained, Eli proceeded to drive to his apartment in absolute silence. Clare didn't ask where they were going, which was a strange thing on her part- normally she'd be flinging inquiry after inquiry at him, anxiously wondering about everything and anything. Maybe it was because she already knew where he was driving, and that was why she didn't bother asking. Maybe she just trusted him enough to not ask. Or maybe she was scared. He didn't know.

It was eerily quiet and pitch-black inside, a mess of neglected take-out food haphazardly splayed across the kitchen counter and his sketch pad sitting right where he left it- on the coffee table, with the rough, unused work crumpled beside it. There was an old couch, a rickety stool where he liked to sit when he did his work. The stove was rusty, but hadn't been used since he got here. All these things became more apparent to him as Clare dropped her bag and ambled past him, delving deeper into his cave. She continued to say nothing, and just observed quietly to herself while keeping a very impassive face.

Eli remained rooted to the mat before the door, charily watching her wander around. He held his breath when she knelt down beside the table, gingerly reaching to examine his work.

"Who's this?" Clare said inquiringly, running her fingers across the expanse of a picture. It showed a woman from the neck up, with razor-slash bangs cutting across her forehead and strong jaw line. Her chin was tilted upwards deliberately, as if trying to convey a sense of ruthlessness that didn't quite come across.

He knelt down a little behind her, peering past her shoulder.

"That's Katie Maitlin. Soccer hopeful until she injured her knee, been screwed over by her ex-boyfriend. She's got a nice face structure."

Clare hummed and nodded, flipping over to the next page.

"And this?" she asked, raking her eyes over a drawing of a young boy. His features were slightly feminine, but the cut of his hair said otherwise.

"Adam Torres," he said, brushing off the eraser shavings tarrying on the page. "He used to be known as Gracie. Drove him insane. He's a happy guy, though."

Eli waited for her to start asking questions after that, but instead she just stood up and continued her tour. She ventured into the kitchen this time, taking in the barrenness of the shelves. With Eli shadowing her this time, she even dared to pull open the refrigerator. It was nearly empty, of course, with the exceptions of a few water bottles, a packaged loaf of bread, and processed cheese slices. A pitiful display, really. He made a mental note to pick up a jar of jam next time he hit the grocery store; cheese was starting to get on his nerves.

"Is that me?" Clare furrowed her brow, pointing to a small photograph stuck on the fridge door.

Oh crap, he forgot that was there. It was a candid shot of nine-year old self, laying on her belly and scribbling messy words on a notebook. She must have been nine at the time, so blissfully unaware of Ms. Paisley snapping a photo of her there on the floor. He then thought of Ms. Paisley, blissfully unaware of Eli snatching the photo later on in the day- hey, in his defense, she had left the mound of pictures unattended on the colouring table, and the one of Clare had been on the very top. When he was ten, she was the only person he could stand at the time, so that may have compelled him to commit a teeny-weeny crime. He scratched his neck awkwardly, fumbling around for an explanation.

"I, uhm, can explain," he stalled, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this one.

"Actually, I think I'd rather hear you explain something else," she said, putting the picture back. Clare turned around to face him, giving him a look to remind him of why she was here.

He reached out and took the picture of little Clare in his hands, bending and unbending corners. He gave her one glance, and that's when it started to pour out.

His words spilled out of him messily and incoherently, stumbling over one another in a race of release. Eli hadn't realized exactly how much he was hiding from Clare until he laid it all out on the table, open for her to criticize and judge. He was confident that she wouldn't do such things, but the fear still clung onto him, and more he thought about it, the faster he spoke. He flew through the details of his apartment-hunting earlier in the year, didn't hold back when he explained his struggles in keeping up with rent, and skimped a little when it came to explaining the absence of his car. She only cringed when he spoke more in depth of his clients, which he couldn't blame her for- they really were such odd people. For the vast majority of his extemporaneous confessing, Clare remained neutral-faced and wore nothing of the faintest stitch of dismay. This only perturbed him in the slightest; he was too busy trying not to trip over his words.

He told her why he was nervous about telling her, and all of his fears. Many nervous hand gestures and hurried words stringed together in one giant jumble later, Eli finally drew a breath. He had said it all, and felt both relieved and pathetic that it had taken him so long. The ball was in her court, and she had yet to utter a single word.

"That's all," he concluded anticlimactically, clasping his hands together. It was almost like a nudge to her ribs, prodding her to say something- _anything._

The lukewarm face only lasted for another minute on her, though, it wasn't necessarily a smile that replaced in. She only softened the tiniest bit.

"The world didn't explode," she said. "That's a good sign, isn't it?"

Eli smiled weakly.

"You thought I was going to go crazy, didn't you?"

He looked down to his feet, flattening out the photo. He supposed that summed up his feelings well- he had thought it would freak her out, or worse- that it'd make her pity him. What he thought was evidently proved to be wrong, quite to his relief and surprise, as she remained completely calm. That tiny smile that cracked on her face- that little thing. It was almost silly to think that he'd been so afraid of letting her in. "Instead I just went crazy on my own."

Clare smiled warmer, gazing at his hands.

"I was scared," he murmured. "And I still am."

_I'm scared because I think I love you. I'm scared because I have nothing to offer you. I'm scared because I'm trusting you and I can't stop it. It's scary because I've never trusted anyone before, and I'm scared you'll leave me. It's because I don't have a future like you do, and I'll probably hold you back._

"Want me to tell you a secret?" she whispered softly, shyly tugging on the hem of his shirt.

"What, you want to get me naked again?" he teased, endeavouring with no success at concealing his trembling voice.

She shook her head, grinning embarrassedly.

"Sometimes I think you forget that I have everything to be frightened of, too," she said poignantly, brushing her damp hair behind her ear. Clare gazed deeply at him. "Eli, when you came…you took my world by storm. You were such a hurricane, making me believe in the wildest things and doubt everything I've ever known. Do you realize how many firsts I've encountered because of you?"

He shook his head, eyes shining with emotion.

"Because of you, I've gotten high," she whispered. "I've been to a club. I've precariously hung off the side of a moving train, faced the bitterest, most unexpected form of rejection, snuck out in the middle of the night, jumped into a pool for the very first time, and had my first kiss. I've done things I would never have done if I hadn't met you, and I know for a fact that there are hundreds of other firsts yet to come. And those are just things I can talk about- I can spent days feeling everything you made me feel, Eli. You are just this force of nature that I can't stop...and I don't think I'd ever want to. I'm scared too. So if you don't mind, let's be scared together."

Eli felt his heart boil into a pool of wonderful warmth at her words, heating up his entire body. Admittedly, the warmth had a lot to do with her fingers caressing so low below his navel, but her words did contribute largely. It was kind of like Clare telling him she was trusting him too, and that in itself was so amazingly incredulous. He was inclined to believe… that maybe he hadn't screwed everything up.

"That sounds perfect," he breathed, feeling infinitely more reassured.

"I understand why you were so reluctant to tell me. I get it, Eli, I really do," she said empathetically, gesturing vaguely to his messy apartment. "You're used to handling things on your own. But I hope you know that it's okay to ask for help every now and again if you need it. And for right now…"

"I need it," he admitted, as they both turned to look at the spider webs decorating the stove top. "Hell, I need all the help I can get."

"I think I can be of service, then," Clare giggled, swatting Eli's hand away as he tried to poke it. He grinned, firmly seizing her hand.

"It'll be a lot of work," he warned her, raising his eyebrows.

"Then I should be used to it. I chose you, didn't I?" she said teasingly, eliciting a sound of mock-displeasure from Eli. Though inwardly, he was soaring at the idea of being chosen by Clare freaking Edwards, he feigned shock, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. And then he couldn't help himself, and pulled her in for a bone-crushing hug. She reeked of chlorine, but the sensation of holding her in his arms was far too incredible to even think of it.

"_Pokémon, I choose you,"_ he mumbled into her hair, making her giggle again.

"Also, Bianca might have already told me," she said musingly, almost angelically. "That would kind of explain the lack of questions."

He chuckled. "Why am I not surprised?"

"You don't sound particularly upset about it."

What could he say? It was hard to be too upset about anything when he was holding her like this.

"I guess I should be glad. It saves me a hell lot of explaining to do."

Clare sighed, pushing his chest away. "Alright, well, I think it's time for me to go home now. Would the gentleman mind giving me a ride right about now?"

Eli's eyes widen, and he stared at her like she was crazy.

"I thought…you were going to stay with me tonight?" he said it like a question, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice. His hand flew to the back of his head, and he gnawed on his lips- he wasn't ready for her to leave yet, and the mere thought of it sent panic rippling down his spine. His apartment would feel so barren and lonely without someone else with him. Someone else, meaning _Clare. _

She shook her head decisively, much to his apprehension, and starting looking towards the door.

"_Please_?" he beseeched, hating that he resorted to begging, but wanting it all too badly to muster more dignity. He took a cursory glance at the door, half-tempted to make a beeline towards it and lock it shut. He almost does. Almost. There was fear in his body, and an extreme reluctance to drive his safe haven away.

"I wouldn't have a chance to make it back before they wake up. My dad and mom wake up at the crack of dawn, did you know?"

"Then stay just for a few hours," he suggested, hastily calculating the number of hours they had. "Three hours, Clare. It's not that long."

Again, she shook her head. "Eli, stop. I just can't, okay?"

His shoulders slumped, defeated by her resolution. Was it so bad that he couldn't bear to see her leave? He wasn't suggesting anything remotely morbid or out of line, but maybe it wasn't coming across that way.

"I won't even be in the same room as you," Eli almost begged, sacrificing his desire to hold her in bed, and perhaps kiss her forehead if she slept. He shuddered involuntarily, trying not to feel too heavy-hearted at the opportunity he would not have. He yearned for the warmth of her body melding with his own, but would gladly settle for the reassurance of her presence if it came down to it. Just please don't let her leave, for God's sake. "I'll stay here in the living room, and you can take my room. I won't come in unless you ask."

She gave him a weary look, and Eli loathed how his disagreement was very one-sided. It was as if she didn't want to stay here with him. _She must hate it here or something, _he thought with bitter gloom, feeling incredibly pathetic. Whatever. His apartment was shit anyways. It was probably too cold in his room, too. Suddenly, the idea seemed so stupid to think about in the first place, and he bowed his head in resentful humiliation.

"Eli-"

"Never mind, just forget it," he said abruptly, striding past her. He roughly swung open the door, gesturing her out. "You're right, it's a dumb idea to begin with."

"Don't do that," Clare frowned, refusing to move so much as an inch. "You know I'm not rejecting you."

"Oh yeah?" he mumbled sardonically, sadness lacing his tone. "Then why does it feel like it?"

"I'm just not ready," she explained patiently, gently, and ever-so softly. "I wouldn't stay with you even if my parents did allow it, simply because I'm not ready to take so many steps in one night."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm not pressuring you to have sex with me, Clare," Eli said acerbically, folding his arms across his chest.

"I didn't say you were," she retorted, sounding the slightest bit offended. "I'm just saying, I don't spend the night at anyone's house. Not even if he's my boyfriend, and especially not if it's any other guy."

Oh.

Presenting Clare Edwards, always the voice of reason.

"Well then, fuck me," he glowered at himself, feeling ten times more stupid and idiotic and like a total asswipe. He wasn't even her boyfriend, for God's sake, and she totally had the right to draw a line somewhere. He wasn't her boyfriend, and whose fault was that? _Wuss._ "Please forgive me for being a total douche bag, then. I'm- God, I'm so sorry Clare. I didn't think of it that way."

"It's been a long night," she said gently, reaching out to touch his face. Where her fingers brushed left a scorching mark, causing the lump in his throat to bob up and down.

"Someday, maybe," he wished hopefully, jamming his keys in the key hole. What seemed like his wildest dreams now, he supposed.

Clare gave him a thoughtful look.

"Someday," she echoed.


	13. Chapter 13

**I had to.**

**I just had to.**

* * *

"You're wrong. _Guts _is a freaking brilliant story created by the warped abyss of a brain that is Chuck Palahniuk. How many stories have the ability make people faint on the spot?"

"The best of _Haunted?_" Clare tested out the words on her tongue, shuddering because it felt so wrong. Flinching as she recalled her experience of reading that section of the novel, she swallowed uneasily, her throat constricting. She avoided carrots for weeks after that nasty reading, and wanted to disgorge every time she saw her mom apply Vaseline to her skin. It was the story of a young boy- rather, a curious, gutsy young boy- who endured a complete world wind of events that came consequently after a rather revolting masturbation incident. The story lasted for as long as you could hold your breath. The aftermath was what really bothered her. "I might be biased, but that story totally contorted my perspective of petroleum jelly and orange vegetables. I think Sister Vigilante was the most intriguing character.

"The lady with the bowling ball?" Eli snorted, unamused. "Come on, that's soft. _Guts _actually made me feel something."

"Yes, and it was out-rightly disturbing," Clare contradicted passionately. "The best things in life aren't always blatant."

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't enjoy hearing about his six-inch intestine," he said fanatically, sighing like a smitten schoolgirl. Clare bit her lip to repress a grin, tempted to giggle at his infatuation. The boy just adored the art of literacy with all his heart. He raved with passion and enthusiasm that teenage boys usually reserved for food and sex, and it was really quite an amazing thing. She wasn't nearly devout as he was about dark, humour fiction, but could appreciate well-written novels when she came across one. And Eli, she learned quickly, had rather good taste. "Who would think of something like that?"

"He can't eat meat," she said broodingly, thinking of all the other alternatives. "Can you just imagine the rest of his life?"

"I'm just imaging how he's going to pee," Eli wondered, sounding more fascinated than sickened.

"Gross, Eli," Clare wrinkled her nose.

"What?" he said defensively. "Haven't you thought about it too? Or do you have one of those inhuman filters implanted on your brain?"

"I'd settled for the latter, I think," she said coyly. "But you're certainly not helping but putting in those nasty thoughts in my head. You're a bad influence, Goldsworthy."

Eli cackled mischievously, causing her to laugh in response. He was so dorky, that boy. Nobody would have ever pegged him to be as silly as he was.

Clare took a moment to glance at her phone screen, rubbing her warm ear as she did. Seventy eight minutes, and they were still talking like they hadn't talked in months. It was funny how fast the sun would set when they discussed the things they liked, and much to their surprise, many of those things were shared between them. Indie music, for example, was a mutual guilty pleasure: bands like _The Paper Kites _and _Great Lake Swimmers _were all-time favourites, and especially during bad days. Don't even get them started on _Death Cab for Cutie_ either. As for fiction, Chuck Palahniuk was given equal respect, though it was easy to see who was more obsessed. Stephen King was well-liked as well. They could both agree that their taste was a little offbeat, and perhaps that was why discussing these things was so much fun. It wasn't often that they came across people who shared the same interests, and Eli made a joking comment about how well the universe had done in bringing them together. She agreed fervently, and a timid silence enveloped them. Silences were occasional, and most of them were pleasantly loaded.

"So it's Monday tomorrow," Clare noted, as the orange of the sky faded into the houses.

"Ugh, don't remind me," he grumbled. "I have a paper due second period, and I haven't even started yet."

"Then I suppose this would be a good place to end this conversation, considering you only have a few hours left," she said ruefully, despite her reluctance to hang up. "I don't want to be responsible for your R."

More unintelligible grumbling."Could I convince you to sneak out for some crepes with me instead? I really don't want to do this."

"Why crepes? Why not dumplings?"

"Because I'm craving some crepes, is that a problem?"

He sounded more childish than mean. More whiney than sarcastic.

"Nope, officer, not a problem," she retorted innocently. "Just that crepes are kind of soft, you know? I'm more of a crackers and cheese kind of person."

"So you like hard things, eh? I seeeee..."

She busted out a laugh, slapping her hand over her mouth when she realized how loud it had been.

"Clare Edwards!" he laughed. "You naughty child."

She grinned impishly, even though he wouldn't be able to see it. "Too naughty of a child, apparently. I wouldn't come out, even if it wasn't a bad idea. I'm grounded, remember?"

Eli made a noise that came out the end of the receiver, obviously very displeased to hear that her punishment was still in existence. Well, what did he expect? It was by some generous miracle that she hadn't been shipped off to a convent yet, after being caught sneaking back home in the wee hours of the morning. There was nothing like a livid Helen and Randall duo waiting for her in the living room, having prepared an explosive castigation that poor Clare would be forced to endure. The worst part of it all, in their opinion, was that she had neglected to take her cell phone along with her, giving them no possible way to reach her. There'd been a lot of _young lady,_ _do you know how worried we were _and _what were you thinking _and of course to end off any thunderous rebuking, came the penalty- for the duration of two months, Clare was absolutely forbidden to attend any social event or go out with any of her friends after school hours. A pretty meagre punishment compared to the furious speech, if you ask her. But what can you really do to a child who cares little for the usual teenage stuff? She was barely on her laptop, didn't have a strong attachment to materialist items, and didn't have a boyfriend. She barely went out with friends as it is, though as good timing served, she was forced to cancel all events planned with Bianca. The older girl was extremely annoyed, to say the least, but most of the exasperation was mainly directed towards her "uptight" parents. Clare could only sigh in stoic silence, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She did deserve some sort of punishment, she had to admit, but it didn't mean she liked it.

On the up side, she managed to create a pretty convincing explanation as to where she was all night, and thank goodness, she was able to tell it without including Eli. So maybe it was kind of like a lie, considering she didn't mention him, the pool, Jake, or Campbell. But she did say she was with Bianca, "consoling her in her time of need". Helen and Randall didn't know who the hell Bianca was, so there was no way they could double-check on her story. It was almost a flawless excuse, so flawless that Eli had to give her props for her quick-thinking- excellent work for a rookie liar who was dead-beat from the night's events.

The night's events. She'd been trying to take it in stride, but if one thing was certain, it was that she couldn't attend the Haiti trip. Luke was extremely disappointed, but he'd understand eventually; there was no way she could leave in the midst of sorting things out with Eli. The time and distance would just add more complications. Their problems had moved on to a much more typical level, that involved that of _why won't he just ask me to be his girlfriend_? Was she too obvious last night, so much that it made him fluster?

"It's not like you did drugs or anything," Eli griped, and she rolled over onto her back. "Isn't two months a little extreme?"

"I don't really go out that often to begin with," Clare shrugged. "So it doesn't bother me that much."

"But it bothers _me__**," **_he almost whined. "I have no other choice but to finish this horrid paper on my own! Who's going to discuss _Lullaby _with me when I get around to reading it? Who's going to keep me company now when I draw pictures of weirdos?"

She laughed, picturing Eli with a pout on his face and a bushy-haired man sprawled out on his couch. "I think you're exaggerating. Those pictures that you showed me- they don't look that weird."

"Those are the normal ones. About two out of two hundred."

"Yes, well, I think I'd be more concerned about your eating habits than company," she said musingly. "Maybe tomorrow at lunch we can go grocery shopping for some fresh fruits and veggies. My mom has a super easy chicken and broccoli recipe that I can show you, if you'd like."

"You're tiny," he mulled over. "Maybe I can just throw you in my school bag and you can cook dinner for me every day. No one in the bus will ever suspect it."

"And my parents?" she giggled.

"You can tell your parents you have detention or whatever…ahh, but they wouldn't believe it. You do know what detention is, right?"

"Oh be quiet Eli, I know what detention is."

"Riiight, I'm sure you do."

"I'll have you know, I'm quite the scoundrel. I snuck out in the middle of the night before, did you know?"

Eli's chuckle came out the other end of the receiver, but as it did, a small sinking feeling took place in the pits of her stomach. She wasn't all angel and innocence- no, far from it. Clare knew his teasing was just out of good humour, but it still stung that his opinion of her was so one-sided.

"Not voluntarily, you're not," he told her, almost in a challenging way. "You require a hella pushing to get anywhere."

"Not true," she countered defiantly, willing herself to prove him wrong. She wracked her brain for some evidence, scrambling as he purposely paused to give her inadequate time to think.

It was as if she could hear him shaking his head when she remained quiet. "Face it Edwards- you're a good girl."

Clare let out a quiet gruff, piqued by his insistence. It was getting rather tiresome, being called goody-two shoes. Hadn't she done enough to prove herself otherwise?

Tapping her nails on the wood of her bed frame, she thought briefly about what Bianca told her, about the nude thing. What if it was her, posing stark-naked in front of Eli while he drew her every curve, her every nook and cranny? Would that make him see that she wasn't just little-sister material? It was clear that he liked him, after all- perhaps he just needed a little push. He had already seen a lot of her last night, and remained quite a gentleman about keeping his eyes respectful for the most part. Eli could be trusted with her….gems.

"Actually, forget about the grocery shopping," she blurted, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Ooh, cutting me off now? You scoundrel, how dare you?"

"I want to come over to your apartment tomorrow at lunch. I mean, if that's okay with you," Clare winced, wavering near the end of her firm statement. She realized that she had practically invited herself over without consent, and out of impulse, softened her voice with uncertainty.

"Uhm, sure. Yeah, that'd be great," he said, sounding pleasantly surprised by her request. "I'll swing by your locker as soon as the period's over."

"Okay, cool," she said, bobbing her head up and down.

"Super cool." He replied enthusiastically.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm hanging up now, Eli."

"Wha-not cool, Clare."

"Bye."

"But-"

She hung up.

-x—

Monday morning swept in faster than the speed of sound, dragging along with it a cranky Eli Goldsworthy who had woken up at three in the morning to complete his forgotten English paper. He had woken with a nagging tugging in his stomach, and rolled out of his bed with half-lidded, red-rimmed eyes. Damn essay. Damn Perino. He wasn't even an English teacher, for damn sake. Mumbling incoherently to himself in the dark, he flickered on his lamp, proceeding to slump into his rickety chair.

At about four- fifteen, he declared himself finished, and roughly dropped his pen down on his table.

At eight o'clock, he was sitting in the school library, typing out said damn essay. There were only a handful of people in the building so early in the morning, most of which had scarcely arrived with large Timmy's cups in their hands. He expected most of them were seniors running on gallons on coffee, much like himself, who had ceased to put forth maximum effort in the second semester of their last year. There was no living going on here. Just existence. Dallas was sitting some rows behind him with his phone in his hand, smirking unsubtly at something that was observably not homework. Eli rolled his eyes, mildly irked by his presence. His abhorrence for that guy was so irrationally tremendous; it made him wonder of the self-control he possessed when he lived with him. It was crazy to think that they once shared the same roof.

A loud snort erupted behind him, making Eli's fingers clench and unclench. He breathed in deeply through his nose, rolled his shoulders back, and stoically resumed his typing.

_Secondly, David doesn't even understand why bodily abnormalities are considered to be a negative thing. When Mrs. Wender asks him to keep Sophie's sixth toe a secret, he obliges confusedly, evidently flummoxed by the importance stressed upon itfr-_

Another bursting snort crashed against his ear drums, followed by a quiet snicker. Pressing his lips together in a fine line, Eli tapped irritably on the _Backspace_ key. He craned his neck around, zeroing in on the smirking boy.

"Hey, could you keep it down?" he called exasperatedly, narrowing his eyes. Dallas glanced up, quirking a condescending, questioning brow at him. "I'm trying to work here."

"I'm not _disturbing _you Goldsworthy," Dallas sneered, returning to his phone.

Eli scowled at him. "Your fucking snickering-"

"Mr. Goldsworthy!" Ms. Oh came marching in, a look of shock and disapproval on her face. She placed her hands on her hips, frowning. "I don't tolerate that kind of language here. You're also disrupting the other students here that are trying to work."

He widened his eyes.

"I wasn't-"he began to protest.

"Enough," she said firmly, pointing sternly to his computer. "Otherwise, I'll have to kick you out of the library."

Dallas sniggered quietly in the background, sending a heated trickle down his spine. Eli gritted his teeth to repress shooting back a defensive statement, thoroughly annoyed by the situation. He glared at Mr. Oh's back as she strode into the photocopying room.

"_Ass_," he muttered, referring to Dallas.

As soon as he started to type out his conclusion, eyes darting back and forth between the white screen and his chicken scratch, he felt a shadow casting over him. His hands darkened slightly because of the silhouette, which caused them to instinctively freeze over the keyboard. He sensed a body taking a seat next to him, and very slowly, he turned.

"So how are you and Clare doing?" Dallas asked conversationally, stretching out his legs. He folded his arms across his chest in a relaxed manner, settling nicely on the orange plastic chair.

"We're doing great, thank you," Eli replied curtly, making a move to continue his assignment, but realizing that he'd lost his flow. He exhaled sharply, and very unwillingly turned back to him. "Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to be pissed at me anymore," he shrugged, scrolling through his phone. "I'm not after Clare anymore."

That made him feel marginally better.

Okay, that was a lie. He felt a lot better.

"And?"

"And I wanted to thank you," Dallas said, the corners of his lips lifting up. Eli looked skeptically at him. "For opening the gates to greener and let's say, more _willing _pastures."

Still fighting a grin, he handed his cell phone over to him, inciting him to take a look. Cautiously, Eli took it and glanced at the screen, nearly choking when the image registered.

"Why are you-"

"You recognize her, don't you?" Dallas asked proudly, taking it back.

Eli shook his head. What with the number of naked female bodies he'd seen in the past couple months, it was hard to distinguish and match up identities with them. It was obvious with this one that it belonged to an attractive teenage girl, and why he was showing Eli it was completely beyond him.

"Julia?" Dallas drawled. "Your fuck buddy?"

The name rang a bell.

"Seriously?" Eli said, his upper lip curling in disdain. "You're with her now?"

But Dallas was impervious to Eli's contempt, and merely nodded. Licking his lips and giving the screen one last satisfied look, he jammed the phone in his jean pocket.

"After you stormed off with that Edwards chick, you left us in a perfect situation to make-do," he explained unabashedly, picking at some hangnail. "She must have perfected her technique with you in the bathroom stalls because she was an amazing shag."

Eli stiffened, but it wasn't because he was jealous. Dallas could have all his leftovers for as much as he cared. There was a particular piece of information that bothered him.

"Fantastic. So she's going around telling people about our business?" he asked mordantly.

"I don't think she's going around bragging about it," Dallas shrugged, letting it go past him that Eli was rather upset by it. "Anyways, there were no strings with you guys, right? I mean, I'm not going to ask her out or anything, but I don't want it to piss you off if I…you know."

"Uhm, no, I don't care what you do with her."

"Good," he said gruffly. "Then uhm, are we cool?"

Ohh, this was his intention all along. Dallas didn't necessarily seek forgiveness, but here he was exhibiting some sort of desire for coexistence. The bad blood had been drawn out for quite some time, and he probably thought it was time to air the dirty laundry. Now, Eli wasn't super keen on befriending him just like that, for he still loathed him with fire that may never burn out. At best, Dallas could expect Eli's dislike of him to simmer down. Maybe one day they could be in a room together and not feel any bit of tension in the air. Maybe.

"I still don't like you," Eli said truthfully, tongue-in-cheek. "But I appreciate this."

Dallas kind of grinned. "Thanks. I'm not going to lie either; I thought watching you get in trouble with Ms. Oh was hilarious."

Eli grimaced. "And that's why there's no way in hell I'm moving back."

Dallas let out a mirthful snort. "You think too highly of yourself. With you gone, that extra room is all mine. I'm done with sharing a bunk with Drew." He said jokingly.

They gave each other one last cursory glance, and for a while it was peaceful. There was no need for a drawn-out apology, just a mutual understanding. The only difference was, Eli would have to restrain himself from giving dirty looks to Dallas every time he passed him in the halls, and that was a change he'd grudgingly have to accept.

"Well, I'll see you around Eli," he said, getting to his feet.

"See you." Eli nodded, going back to his conclusion.

The bell rang to herald the time, and with ten minutes left, he hurried to proof-read and print it out. He then headed to his locker, picked up his things for the next two periods, and impatiently waited until lunch.

At eleven-twenty five he bolted out the door in the midst of being dismissed, and speed-walked to Clare's locker. He was probably too early. Clare probably hadn't even gotten out of class yet. He really should play it cool, but he was hanging out with her today and everything was invalid and irrelevant. Butterflies flew wildly around inside of him, and Eli was practically bouncing down the hallways with a glow from within. He didn't know why, but he had a good feeling about today- hell, he even apologized to Dallas when he accidently rammed into him, mumbling a half-assed _sorry _before rushing ahead. Through the corner of his eye he briefly spotted Cam with his mouth opened, but as Clare was soon in sight, he strode ahead without even giving the boy an acknowledgement.

She was just as early as he was, and he literally had to restrain himself from leaping in joy. Clare looked so pretty today, with her soft creamy sweater and light- blue headband. It must have been the dusting of pink across her cheeks that made her look so glowy. Then again, it might also have been the brightness of her large, doe-like eyes. Or the way she was clicking her shoes together, with her arms wound around her back and her face bowed down. He also thought that her skin looked like a lovely translucent colour, with the natural light from the window shining on her. Whatever. She just looked nice today.

"No lethal glare," she greeted him, looking up. She looked pointedly towards Dallas and then to him again, a curious smile dancing on her lips. "Do my eyes deceive me, or are you two in coexistence?"

He smirked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black jeans and leaning against an adjacent locker. "'Hi Eli, how are you?' Fine, Clare, thanks for asking."

She crossed her arms, mirroring his smirk. "_Hi."_

Simultaneously, they glanced at the large red-and-black clad group. Only, Eli cheated and turned to look at Clare immediately after, watching as she waved to Cam. She smiled cheerfully at him, and in response, the younger boy grinned widely.

"He came to me earlier today," Eli explained, noticing how Cam's eyes lingered a little longer. "I think we're okay now."

"I'm surprised you forgave him so fast. As I recall, you were completely adamant about hating his guts."

"I still do," he shrugged kind of sheepishly, as Clare smiled and shook her head. "But let's not talk about that. We only have a ten-minute bus ride, and I have a lot of ground I want to cover with you."

"Whoa," she squealed, nearly tripping over her own feet as Eli seized her hand and whisked her off. With spirits high and heart beating fast, they flew across the school, weaving through crowds of teenage bodies and annoyed faculty members. Clare let out a couple more squeaks as they sharply turned corners, but the giggling that came after told him that she was enjoying the ride. "A little eager, now are we?"

Eli ignored that comment, basically tossing her into the bus that they were _thisclose _to missing. "I just finished reading _The Chrysalids, _and I need to know your thoughts on them. The ending just killed me."

"Hold up," Clare panted, wriggling out of his grip to place both hands on her knees. She gasped, trying to catch her breath. "Sometimes I-I think you f-for…ugh, give me a minute here."

He watched amusedly until the bus jerked to a start, causing her to fall forward. By instinct, Eli reached out and grabbed the hook above him, but unfortunately, Clare wasn't as quick as he was. Poor girl smashed into him, knocking the wind out of them both.

"Sorry!" she cried, arms desperately flung around him to gain balance. "I-I I'm not as-I thought we went over this. There`s a reason why I don`t play sports."

"It s'okay," he wheezed, knuckles turning white. "Just...here."

He gently eased her into a standing position, placing her hand on a silver pole. Clare leaned into it, her chest rising and falling visibly.

"Sometimes I think you forget that I'm not as physically equipped as you are," she breathed, pushing away the hair that had fallen in her face.

Eli chuckled, rubbing his chest. "Unless I'm some elite athlete, I'm in no position to call you out on it. If you hadn't noticed, I don't play any sports either."

"Who needs sports, anyways," she scoffed, eliciting another chuckle out of him. "We have art and literature."

"Brains, too," he added helpfully. "That applies only to you, though."

"You're smart," Clare said, sounding appalled by his implication.

"And you're athletic."

She paused. "Touché."

The bus halted again at another stop, collecting more people. As the front of the bus became more tightly packed, they migrated towards the back, squeezing together in a corner to make room for the incoming riders.

"So about _The Chrysalids_," Eli murmured, breathing down her neck. Clare flinched, wrinkling her nose. "Sorry, do I have bad breath?"

He _haaaaa_'d directly at her, chortling when she swatted him away.

"Eww!" she complained, scrunching up her face. "Keep your dirty air to yourself!"

"Oh, you like that?" He _haaaaa_'d again, grinning broadly as he did.

"_Haaaaaa,_ how's that?" she retaliated, looking pleased with herself. Eli wrinkled his nose as well, but refused to give her the satisfaction. "Am I doing it right?"

"No, you have to put more into it. Like this: _haaaaaaaa."_

_ "Haaaaaaaa."_

"Better, but you need to make it more breathy."

_"Haaaaaaaa?"_

_ "_Yeah, that's it! Now-"

"Excuse me."

They whipped her heads around, seeing an irritable old lady giving them a disapproving look. Eli had to slap his mouth to stop himself from bursting out into laughter; Clare appeared to be fighting it as well.

"Sorry miss," she apologized politely, discreetly nudging him in the ribs.

"Yeah, sorry," he blurted.

The lady seemed dissatisfied, eyeing them warily. But she turned around nonetheless, muttering some unintelligible words like "kids" and "freaky".

As soon as it was their stop, they quickly hopped off. They looked at each other, and burst into loud laughter. Eli laughed until his stomach ached and his eyes watered, feeling as though something uncontrollable was surging through him.

"She must think that we're crazy," Clare tried to say seriously, but her giggles prevented the full effect. She cleared her throat, endeavouring to compose herself. "Okay. So _The Chrysalids._"

Eli grinned and took her hand. They settled into a nice walking pace, discussing their recent reads in a manner that was entertaining for them both- apparently, she had read the book a couple years back as a grade nine novel study, but remembered the details as if they were fresh in her mind. Eli had been so eager to tell her of his thoughts, as she was the only person that seemed to genuinely care about the characters; the braniacs in his U-levelled English class only saw things on a technical level, and were very narrow about exploring different ideas. He and Clare talked about Sophie, mourning lightly over her unceremonious death. They shared points of view on the whole David and Rosalind manner, and found that they both believed Sophie and David were a much more appropriate couple. They had the foundation of friendship- an unconventional one, but strong and true. Clare went on and on about how she disliked Rosalind, and Eli found himself enjoying her rant. The conversation was nice and easy, though passionate just the same. There was nothing superficial about it, and there was nothing strained either. It was perfect.

"She's his cousin, and I suppose if that's not enough of a reason, she also doesn't have the same chemistry as Sophie has with him. If you noticed, David spoke of Rosalind in a rather superficial way- he spoke of her physical appearance, and a bit of her sureness. He admired her, sure, but as for Sophie, he thought of her as a brave and sensible person. Goodness, he even wished to go along with her when that Allen boy found her out! David stayed in the Wender's cottage though his heart ache with misery, and stood up to his bigot of a father. Oh, and he cried as well, holding a lock of her hair! The poor boy was whipped hard under interrogation…he was only ten, too."

Eli shook his head vigorously, swinging open his door with awe on his face.

"I could not have worded it better myself," he said passionately. Clare sighed and sat down on the floor, beginning to pull out her sandwich and water bottle. Against Eli's insistence, she rejected the couch and preferred the hardness of the wooden ground, leaving him with no choice but to join her. It would be awkward to sit on his own sofa while his guest was sprawled out on the floor, and so he snatched the package of raison bread from his counter and collapsed next to her. "In their reunion, it was so obvious that they still cared very much for each other. It was so palpable, I'm sure if I had been there, I would have felt it in the thickness in the air."

"He instantly knew it was her, just by the way she said his name," Clare said dreamily. "Even six years later, the connection between them never broke."

"You're taking my thoughts and feelings, and putting them into the perfect words," Eli said in a praiseworthy sort of way. "God, I love you."

Clare's eyes widened to the size of Frisbees, and it took a while before it registered. Eli's own eyes bugged out.

"I mean…I didn't mean it like that," he said hastily, palms sweating profusely. His face must have been burning now. "It just slipped out. I didn't mean it, I swear."

Internally, he cringed. That was almost a lie.

Several awkward minutes of chewing past them before Clare spoke again. "That's a shame," she said in a small voice.

Eli wasn't sure if he had heard her correctly. "Pardon me?"

But Clare just disregarded the manner, brushing off the bread crumbs from her lap. Without a single word, she stood up and made her way to the coffee table. His sketch pad was still there, along with the other reject drawings she'd seen the other night. There were a couple sharpened pencils lying around, one that was used to bookmark where the blank pages began. Gingerly, she flipped to the first blank sheet and perused it. A rubber eraser was clutched in her fist, and she appeared to be thinking hard about something.

"Clare?" he called out delicately.

She turned and gazed deeply at him. It wasn't just a pensive gaze either, the type that made you curious and all. It was a searching gaze, a longing one, one that originated from pupils as deep as a chasm. Ardour wouldn't be an accurate word to describe it, nor would zeal. There was simply a lot of searching in her depths, drawing him near and making it difficult for him to look away. And suddenly he was moving forward, kneeling next to her without breaking the connection. Her gaze never wavered, never flickered or doubted.

"I want you to draw me," she said in a tone that implied a deeper meaning behind her request. It was strong with certainty, yet tender with faith.

"I can do that," he replied easily, giving her a half-smile. It'd be a great honour to draw a picture of someone as lovely as her. Clare's features were really quite exquisite and timeless. Although, he did not understand why she was exuding the ambiguity she was right now, and it perturbed him a bit.

She nodded, glancing back down again. "I want you to draw me like this."

Eli followed her gaze, finding a rough drawing of Bianca lying across the couch. Her makeup was sultry and the absence of clothes made him wonder if Clare was uncomfortable seeing it.

Then it struck him.

** "**You want it…exactly like this?" he asked, feeling his nerves catch at his throat. She couldn't possibly be suggesting…

"I do," she confirmed, smiling affectionately. "I want you to draw me completely naked."


	14. Erotic

**The only chapter in the entire fic that could be considered borderline M...well, I think this is the closest to Mature content I'll ever write. I'm not the one for smut and lemons, to be honest. That is, unless a whole mob of readers and demand horny material with pitchforks in their hands, I just might be intimidated into complying. But let's not, okay?**

**Anyways, this chapter's for ****SilverHeartt,**** who has been so incredibly kind and wonderful to me during this mini hiatus. You should definitely talk to her if you get the chance. She's _so_ lovely, and if you're reading this, I hope you start writing stories soon. :) My inbox has been kind of messed up, so I'm sorry I haven't replied to you. I'll be responding shortly after I put this up!**

** I think that's it for now. I uhm, was kind lazy about editing so please excuse any horrible grammar mistakes. I hope you'll love it anyways, and I hope you'll stop by to say hello. You've all been an amazing group of readers, and I thank you for that. :)**

* * *

Prospects of attending third and fourth period lay forgotten, heavily neglected next to their sagging school bags. The contents of Eli's backpack had spilled out nosily in the midst of the loaded silence, and under normal circumstances, they would have burst out in laughter. But even as a rotten apple core rolled its way over to Clare's feet, neither said a word. The air was too thick. Not even a browning fruit could penetrate it, and so it just sat there. Touching Clare's toe. And surprisingly enough, she didn't cringe and Eli didn't reach out to poke it. You see, when a girl offers to take off all her clothes, crazy stuff like this just happens.

At some point, something in his head must have clicked because he sprung to his feet. Then he was everywhere, scurrying around in search for material, looking anywhere but at her. Eli flittered around trying to catch the right lighting, carefully pulling the curtain aside to allow the perfect amount of natural light to shine through. Initially yanking it wide open and almost blinding a squinting Clare, he laughed nervously and resorted to a trial-and-error method. He ran back and forth from the window to his stool, making the most minute changes in his positioning so that everything was perfect. It had to be perfect.

At this, Clare gingerly got up, hesitantly making her way over to the sofa. She sat awkwardly, as he fiddled around some more with the blinds. The little apple core was still there in the centre of the room, lonesome and abandoned by her relocation. Heaven knows how long it had been that way, seeing how mushy it looked.

"Nice apple," she commented inelegantly.

He casted the mutated fruit a cursory glance, eyebrows knitted together.

"It's yours if you want it," he offered nonchalantly, making Clare snort. It was nice to see that his humour hadn't been dwindled by the circumstances. They could be falling off a cliff for all she knew, and he'd still be making witty comments.

Once her hair was gleaming red from the sun, he then proceeded to set up his fine-point pencils and sketch pad.

"You can go in the room and err… get ready," Eli said, keeping his eyes fixated on his work. That eraser shaving stuck on the corner was suddenly extremely engrossing. Several long seconds ticked by. "Oh, before I forget-"

Clare watched him, still sitting neatly on the sofa. Her hands were clasped, sitting properly in her lap. Thumbs were twiddling apprehensively. Eli nimbly stood up and headed to a small closet near the front door, rummaging through it.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

He didn't answer. He merely pulled out a large, silky-looking cloth that was burgundy and environed by blue trimming. It really was quite large- when he held it up, it was nearly as long as his height.

"I thought it might make it easier," he said uncertainly, carefully gauging her expression. A slow, grateful smile spread across her face.

"It's perfect, thanks," she said graciously, taking the soft material in her hands. In the process of taking it, her fingers brushed his, sending an electrifying current through her veins.

Eli blinked, as if momentarily stunned by the soft contact. He then shook his head slightly, giving her a lopsided grin.

"No problem," he said, staying planted on his spot.

They smiled anxiously at each other.

He bowed his head and put his hands in his jean pockets, his eye lashes fluttering visibly in the direct sunlight. There was nervousness in his stance, and shyness in the way he averted his gaze. His sleeves looked so lovely rolled up to his elbow, and he really did seem like an artist. Eli looked so beautiful, so compellingly, marvellously beautiful.

_You're so beautiful,_ she wanted to say, but her throat closed around the words. Instead, she just leaned forward to peck his cheek, drawing pool of blood boiling beneath. His lips felt fiery, almost as hot as they'd been when he kissed her in the pool.

"I'll be back," she told him, her voice catching at the last word. Discreetly she tried to clear her throat, making her way to the only bedroom she saw. She had to force herself not to look back; otherwise, her knees just might buckle underneath her.

"Come on, don't be a coward," she murmured to herself, quietly shutting the door behind her. Pressing her back against the hard wood, she slid down to the ground, a twisted look on her face. No, no, it was too late to back out now. This wasn't the time to regret anything.

One, two, breathe.

Three, four, exhale.

She buried her face in his hands for a couple dozen heartbeats, breathing steadily. Okay. Okay. Just get up and-okay. Okay. Pluck up the courage and-okay. It'll be okay. Just breathe. Breathe and everything will turn out alright.

Clare pulled her legs closer to her body, but not without bumping into something. It was a box that was placed haphazardly in the room, simple and dusty on the top. The lid slid off when she made contact with it, and curiosity in the midst of nervousness was piqued. She instinctively glanced around to see if anyone was looking –guiltily so, despite the fact that the door was closed- before taking a peek. Hmm.

She wound her arms around herself, leaning closer. Something green and glittery caught her eye.

"Eli?" she murmured experimentally.

No response.

She took this as a green light, and dipped her hand inside. The lid fell off completely in the process, and her hand caught a hold of an old cardstock with the words _happy birthday _on the front. There was an atrocious velvet bow that felt soft to the touch, and with a crook of her lips, Clare was flooded with nostalgia. She spread open her palm, half-expecting it to be smaller and covered with glitter.

"_Oh, you think you're so witty," she shook her head, towing him towards the kitchen._

_ "I am," he said pragmatically. "Handsome, smart, and modest too."_

She had dumped a whole bottle of green glitter for good measure, and spent hours writing the special secret message inside. Hours of rummaging through her craft drawer, fueled with utmost determination to find the perfect little touch for Eli's birthday card, had not gone to waste. To her immense relief, he absolutely _adored _Clare's handiwork, and even more so the cupcake she and Helen had baked for him.

_ "What's that?" Eli asked in bemusement, pointing at the tool Randall was holding. He watched with wide-eyes as he brought it near his present, gasping when a little flame flicker on. "Why are you setting Clare's present on fire?!"_

_ "Just watch," Randall smiled. He touched the stick-thing with the candle. When he pulled away, the candle then had a flame if its own. _

_ "Oooh, can I touch it?" he asked eagerly._

_ "No!" Helen yelped, throwing her hands in front of him._

_ Eli looked wide-eyed at her._

How marvelous it was, to see a boy who had nothing be pleased with so little. His amateur snarky comments couldn't hide his obvious excitement and delight, and it was such a precious sight to see.

She snickered quietly under her breath, putting the card back inside the box. Smaller Eli had never seen a lighter in his life, giving Helen a near heart-attack when he reached out to touch the flame again. His cheeks had been bulging with cake, his eyes alight with mischief.

What else was inside here? She dug deeper in, finding a couple candy wrappers, a CD that was titled as one of their old Sunday school songs, and a set of friendship bracelets.

Wait a minute.

With one, swift motion, she peeled off her pants and shirt. She folded them neatly and placed them gingerly on his bed, hesitating to take off the rest of her clothing. Quickly , quickly now, otherwise she'd really lose her guts. Holding in her breath, Clare took off the rest of her undergarments, shuddering at the sudden coldness sweeping past her bare skin.

Clutching the set of bracelets in her clammy hands, she sucked in a breath.

"It's show time," she muttered.

-x-

Eli closed his eyes, and stood very still until he was sure she was out of sight. He waited until his bedroom door clicked shut before exhaling sharply, clutching at his chest. His heartbeat was raggedly forceful, beating wildly out of control. He desperately needed a moment to compose himself if he was going to do this, because in truth, he wasn't sure if he could to begin with. His hands might start shaking badly. His heart might decide to give up on him before they even begin. Both scenarios would be painfully embarrassing to endure, not to mention, a horrible experience to remember. There were so many ways to screw this up, and he couldn't. _Don't. Don't screw up your one shot, Goldsworthy. _

With a quiet groan, he collapsed on the floor beneath him. He laid sprawled out, fingers piercing his temples with immense pressure. He spent the next five minutes thinking of camel toes and Drew's toenails, concentrating very intently on things that grossed him out. Red lipstick. The boy's washroom on the second floor. Spoiled milk. The wad of hair he found clogging up his shower. He shuddered loudly, making a face. Okay, he needn't throw up this very moment, so just…calm. Relax.

Fuck. Footsteps.

He scrambled to his feet, narrowing avoiding a painful head bang against the wall. Should he close his eyes? Would that be stupid, considering he would have to stare at her anyway?

_Fuck this, _he said wildly in his head, making a beeline to his stool. He plopped himself down, pretending to occupy himself with a hang nail. Actually, scratch that- he pretended to occupy himself with his pencil, and picked at the eraser end. Eyes glued to the pink rubber, he acted as if he hadn't noticed Clare appear. So gracefully, so effortlessly, she flitted over to his side, standing so that she was slightly behind him. From his peripheral vision, he could see that the sheet he gave her was tucked under her arms.

"Something wrong with your eraser?" she inquired endearingly.

"No," he croaked, voice cracking obviously. He cleared his throat with great difficulty, staring at the pink nub so hard that he might have gone cross-eyed. "No, I-"He cracked again, making her giggle lightly. His face was so hot right now that it could have burst into flames. _Call the fire department, Clare. "_Not really, no."

She _hmm'ed _agreeably, rocking back and forth on her bare feet. "Well, I want to ask you about this. Why is it that you have two?"

Very carefully, he took the set of bracelets in his hands, deliberately not turning his head. He examined the old, faded beads and knots spread across the string, running his thumb over the C.E and E.G initials written on the one giant bead. He smiled sheepishly.

"I, uh, may have stolen this from you to err, protect," he explained, scratching his head.

"Eli!" she exclaimed, sounding more amused than upset. She laughed. "I spent days looking for this!"

"I overheard Imogen plotting to take this from you!" he said defensively, shaking her bracelet for emphasise. "I didn't want- wait… how did you find this?"

If he remembered correctly, they were safely stored away in his Clare box…which had been stored away in his room.

He waited briefly for the impact. As history proved, there always seemed to be a wave of emotion that flooded him after anything related to the Clare box. It held so many wonderful memories, most of which were tainted with bitterness. Eli had cried the last time he opened it. He just might cry again, though perhaps out of embarrassment.

But this time, nothing came. It was as if Clare was plugging the hole in his heart, and he felt like it was okay.

"The box," he shook his head, handing the bracelets back to her.

"I didn't mean to look in it," she said apologetically, sounding rather ashamed. There was a tinge of flattery colouring her tone, and she seemed to appreciate that he kept a special box that consisted only of their memories. The fact that she was flattered pleased him, as if it was something to be proud of. The box suddenly looked alit with life. "I bumped into it, and I…well, I suppose I did mean to look in it."

Eli chuckled. "Well-worded, Edwards."

Clare let out a huffy breath, pretending to be offended.

"You can take it back, if you like," he said, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "I've kept it safe for you long enough."

"No," she shook her head, giving him a sort of funny smile. She handed it back to him- or rather, uncurled his hands and placed them on his palm. Eli quirked an eyebrow at her. "I want you to keep it."

"Okay," he said uncertainly, clenching his fist around it. They cut into his flesh. "Well…there's the couch."

Yes, well, there it was. Shredded in places and faded in colour. And there _she _was, sitting down where dozens have tainted and sprawled upon. There came a moment where he realized he could no longer prolong the safety of light conversation and gentle teasing, and that the moment was inevitable. He anticipated it, after all, though it doesn't dwindle the impact at all. He didn't even want to kiss her anymore because he was so nervous, and he might just mess this up before they begin. Clare was now rubbing her legs, set and ready to start. Eli calmed himself.

He looked at her, completely daunted, and she was so beautiful.

There was white skin every inch he could see, pinkness of cheeks, and a patch of light curls trailing downwards. The sheet was wrapped around her, but it covered nothing. He liked the effect it gave, he must admit. He admired the sight before her like a passive artist, taking in the soft colours and textures. Surely he would delight in drawing such a magnificent thing, as it would be an honour for any person to have such beauty before him.

She mumbled something incoherent as his eyes swept past her again and again, and this time he admired her like he deeply yearned to. He craved to admire her this way; how he longed to see her in this form. The moisture of his tongue and lips were sucked away, while her skin looked wonderfully hydrated and smooth. Her breasts, the part of her that fascinated him the most, were two swells at her chest, so achingly beautiful and tantalizing. His hands shook with anticipation, and it soon become uncontrollable.

"Eli, are you alright?" she asked anxiously, as his sketch pad trembled beneath. Out of instinct, she pulled the sheet tightly around her body, tormenting him so. Hopes and dreams were ripped away from him, yanking him back to a starting reality.

"Yeah," he mustered, as a dull vibrating sound barely distracting his disoriented brain. Clare briefly turned around to detect the noise. Realizing it was only her phone, she dismissed the significance of it and let it vibrate.

"Are you…sure?" she said in a nearly inaudible voice. The sheet was wrapped around her even tighter.

Clare sounded odd. She sounded….insecure?

The absurdity of it was so shocking; he couldn't bring himself to go on like it wasn't apparent. Snapped out of the trance he was put in, and licked his lips to retain moisture again. It took a great deal of strength and obedience to concentrate on anything else but creamy skin and pink buds, and the only reason why he managed was because of the inflection of her voice. It was unsettling. Eli did not know what compelled him to do so, but he got up and walked towards her. He moved with conviction, although confidence was not the most accurate description of his feelings. She recoiled slightly when he stopped before her, kneeling while still trembling ever so slightly. It was hard to look at her without seeing creamy skin and pink buds.

"Clare," he said lowly, a shiver rippling down his spine as he spoke. He rested his elbows on the cushion. "We don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable."

"I want to," she insisted meekly. "I'm the one who suggested it."

"That doesn't mean you can't change your mind," he said gently. His insides clawed at the thought of her agreeing with him, but he kept his face sincere. He genuinely wanted her to be comfortable with him, perhaps more than he wanted her naked. Clare was the priority here, and would always be the one and only priority.

She shook her head adamantly, pressing her lips together in a fine line. Eli took notice of how she was looking everywhere else but at him.

"Clare, you're beautiful," he said plainly.

She widened her eyes, turning to look at him like he had said something appalling.

"Don't," she told him, scooting away. She pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging them with a strangled expression on her face. As if his words had physically wounded her, she sighed, her eyes downcast. A wall was up, and this stung more than any bee sting would.

"You don't believe me?" he asked in a perfectly heartbroken tone.

"Beautiful like Bianca, huh?" she said quietly, burying herself deeper in her arms.

This was uncalled for. "That's ridiculous," he said impulsively, wanting to laugh at her ludicrousness. She flashed him a dangerous look, and he clapped a hand over his mouth with regret.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Clare said, her voice rising sharply. "I'm sorry that you've drawn hundreds of other girls, most of which are probably completely gorgeous, and that I feel self-conscious about doing this. I'm sorry that it's so utterly _ridiculous _to you."

"I didn't mean it that way," Eli reassured her softly, sensing her cold feet. He smiled encouragingly at her, only to be responded by a curt glance. She couldn't possibly be comparing herself to someone like Bianca, could she? Had he not made himself clear that he had feelings only for her? That Bianca would never compare to how sweet and lovely and perfect Clare was? Actually, no, he hadn't, and maybe that was the problem. He never formally declared his love to her, after all. In truth, he was the pusillanimous one in the scenario. Not her.

Eli inwardly smirked. He'd laugh before he cried over how pathetic he was. "You and Bianca are not the same people.

"I know," she said pointedly, covering herself like a homeless person now. Eli almost snorted in amusement. Almost.

Smiling lopsidedly again, he reached and took her hands, holding them against his chest.

"Do you feel that?" he said inquiringly, as his heart beat quickly and erratically.

"Are you going into cardiac arrest?" she guessed dryly, making him guffaw.

"Ouch lady, that's my heart," he said jokingly, grinning at the twitch of her lip. "And it's beating for _you._"

_Score. _Patches of faint scarlet appeared on her cheeks, highlighting the success of what he intended to do. Clare was stubborn about letting it go so easily, however, so he pressed forward.

"I'm not good with words," he began, but was quickly shot down by a skeptical look. "Okay, maybe I am," he said sheepishly.

"'Not good with words', he says," she muttered sardonically, flustered. "Annoyingly snarky, but 'not good with words'. Tch."

"So I'm a smart-ass, I think we covered that," he said hastily. With a thick swallow, both physically in his throat and that of his pride, he allowed the words to flow freely out. For the sake of Clare's pride and self-esteem, he proceeded to tell her what she deserved to hear. "But I'm not good with words when it comes to you. I'm terrible at telling you exactly how I feel about you, and it's because you make me nervous. You make my palms sweat and my knees buckles and sometimes your mere existence is so intoxicating, my head spins for days. My heart is like this every time you smile at something I say, and it's the most precious thing in the world to me. Edwards, does that give you the slightest hint of what you mean to me? What I think of you?"

_I love you, silly, _he thought ruefully, as Clare's eyes shined with surprise. Of course, he wouldn't say such a thing yet. Judging by her reaction, though, what he said was already impactful.

"It's my fault for not telling you earlier," he said sincerely, entwining his fingers with hers. Clare gazed at their joint hands, then straight into his eyes like she was seeing light for the first time. "You deserve to know that I think you are absolutely beautiful, and not just by the way you look. Clare, being with you…it's scary for me."

"For me too," she whispered, leaning forward. "You make me feel crazy things too, Eli."

"Good," he said. "Because you have an unbreakable hold on me, Clare Edwards, and I wouldn't want you using your powers for evil."

She smiled contentedly, and kissed him chastely. Her hands, still at his chest, felt his heartbeat accelerate at the contact.

"That's enough of that now," Eli muttered, pulling her hands away. Clare wrinkled up her nose cutely.

"I feel kind of stupid now."

He kissed her nose. "You shouldn't. It doesn't suit you."

Clare's phone began to vibrate again, demanding attention. It was ignored again.

"I have a substitute teacher for both my classes this afternoon," she said conversationally, propping herself up on her elbows. She lay on her tummy, tilting her head to look at him.

"Is that why you were so willing to skip?" he winked.

"They don't take attendance, anyway," she said angelically. "What about you?"

Eli shrugged. "Neither art nor English this semester. I couldn't really care less about Data."

She hummed thoughtfully, cocking her head from side to side. He watched her, enthralled by the repetitive moments of her legs kicking up and down. The sheet snuck higher and higher up her legs with every kick, creeping above the crease behind her knees.

"You must be getting at least a ninety in art, seeing as you're such a talented artist," she nodded approvingly, swelling up his ego. "I'm sure your teacher wouldn't mind all that much."

Again, he shrugged, trying to conceal the giddy delight from her praise. He was in fact receiving a ninety- six in the course, and along with the solid ninety he was getting in English, he just might be in academic shape for post-secondary education. It was wistful thinking, but it was nice to know that he was capable of accomplishing some things. Even if he was borderline failing math.

"I'm doing alright," he said humbly.

"You'd be a great candidate for NYU," Clare exclaimed, the thought hitting her. She slapped her hands over her cheeks in excitement, while for the Eli, quite the opposite happened. "It's a wonderful art school, Eli, I think you'd love it. I have a cousin who's a professor there, and he tells me about it all the time!"

A sinking feeling told him it wouldn't matter how well he was doing, seeing as it is he wouldn't be able to attend university anyways- let alone NYU, the most competitive art school in the world. Admittedly, he had thought about it. The programs were remarkable, and New York was his dream destination, holding everything he could ever want in a city. The culture, the theatres, the people…Heaven in a nutshell for him. Alas, it was not meant to be. He simply couldn't afford it.

"You'll do great things, Clare," Eli said broodingly, yet ardently. It was his intention to veer the spotlight as far away from him as possible, because it was that much easier to talk about Clare than himself. "You're going to have an amazing career, and you're going to see the entire world." Sadness laced his voice, as much as he endeavored to mask it. "You'll see the Eiffel Tower in Paris like you always wanted to."

"Monet's Gardens in France," she contributed dreamily, only oblivious to Eli's unhappiness because she was so wrapped up in her thoughts. "The Empire State Building in New York, too. Maybe one day we'll go there together."

He smiled ruefully. "That's not going to happen, Clare."

"Right. Maybe when we're older, and have a stable job," she appeased, still not understanding. She peered expectantly at him. "Right?"

Eli shook his head. "I'm bound to Toronto for the rest of my life. You, on the other hand, will travel to all these great places. I'm sure you will."

She frowned, evidently disliking his choice of words. "What do you mean?

He shifted uncomfortably, just as he always did when he came to discussing finances. "Travelling is expensive," he answered, and he left it at that. She understood quickly, much to his relief, and didn't push. She didn't ask any more questions, didn't give him any looks of pity or sadness. Clare simply nodded to confirm her comprehension, and squeezed his hand. Her warmth soothed him in ways words could not.

How did they even get here?

"Let's go back to where we were, shall we?"

-x-

Somehow, Eli made her look both angelic and wholesome, but kind of sexy just the same. _Clare Edwards?! Sexy!? _ She cringed upon seeing how she looked from his perspective, gritting her teeth together in vain.

"This is my favourite piece," Eli whispered tenderly, smoothing his thumb over her face on the drawing. He was gazing at his work so intently, Clare wanted to run and hide. It felt like he was staring at her, even though he wasn't really looking in her direction. "Look at your eyes. It was hell trying to capture your essence, but I'm happy with the way it turned out."

Her eyes, lacking blueness of the ocean, looked anything but flat. They glowed with an unfathomable light, showing depth where the sun hit and the prominence of her irises in the shadow. They emanated coyness, and shyness that merged flawlessly with something of gentle contentment.

"Sounds like you didn't have much fun," Clare teased, wrapping her arms around his waist. She kissed his cheek, greatly appreciating how easy it was starting to become. Exchanging affection was gradually turning into something as simple as breathing, and she had yet to grow tired of it. Every kiss was like a bottle of wine, growing sweeter with time; every touch and grazing of fingers on skin was intoxicating, sparking the insatiable thirst for intimacy.

Eli chuckled, eyes glued to his work. "You're underestimating yourself again. This was the best experience of my life, and I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Maybe the universe?" Clare asked.

"Not even all of Canada."

She laughed heartily, thrilled that he had enjoyed it as much as she did. And how much did she enjoy it really?

Eli shifted slightly to move his sketch pad closer to her, unintentionally brushing against her lower region. Clare shuddered, biting her lip down hard. She was already changed back into her clothes, but the feeling was still intense.

_You have no idea._

He neatly tore the page out of his book, blowing away the specks of eraser shavings. "Here you are, one portrait of a beautiful girl."

Her face burst into flames, as if it hadn't already been drowning in redness. "You can keep it if you-"

"_Yeeeessss," _he hissed, yanking back the picture that Clare hadn't even made a grab for. There was a giant, satisfied grin on Eli's face, so broad and happy that one might have mistaken him for a lottery winner.

Clare snorted. "If you wanted it, you could have just said so. I don't really have much use for a naked picture of me."

Eli winked, tucking it away. "I do."

"I better not catch you selling it on the streets," she joked warningly, flinching for effort.

He looked horrified at the idea.

"And let someone else see you like this?" he cried out, only half joking. He hugged it to his chest, narrowing his eyes playfully. "I would _never_. I was thinking more along the lines of posting this up in my room, perhaps at my bedside."

"That's a creative approach."

"That's because I'm a creative person."

"Gross, Eli. I think we're too comfortable with each other now."

"What? I happen to believe sexual innuendos are quite romantic."

She shook her head. "That explains a lot."

He shot her a dirty little look, but he couldn't stay upset for much longer. It was because she had pulled him off the stool and onto the floor with her, crossing her legs before him. He mirrored her, piqued by the movement.

How lovely he was. How marvellously flawed he was. How she wished he was hers, but could not, even after all she'd done, ask him herself. She was old-fashion in that sense, unconventionally raised this way by her mother and father. She would wait, even if it took a forever and a day for Eli to pop the question.

It didn't mean she couldn't hint at it, though.

"So my mom's been asking me about you," she began conversationally, as he fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

"Oh?" he inquired lightly, tugging at a stray thread. "What about?"

"She noticed how closer we've gotten, and wondered if we were, you know, more than friends."

"Hmm." Though his head was still bowed, it was obvious that the thread no longer occupied his interest. Clare hoped he wouldn't pay much attention to the way her heart was beating, because it would probably give away what she was trying to get at. She kept her hands flat on her knees, tapping them rhythmically with her index fingers. "And what did you say?"

She puffed up her cheeks, trying to repress a grin.

"That we were definitely more than best friends."

"Yeah?" he pressed, forgetting the thread altogether. His leg jiggled a bit in impatience. "Then what?"

Clare lifted strands of her hair, pretending to inspect for split ends. She was enjoying torturing him much more than she should.

"She just asked for clarification, you know? I suspect she and my dad discuss this when I'm not home, seeing how he was conveniently in the room."

"Well, what did you say?" he pushed impatiently.

A large pause. "That we were super duper best friends."

For one priceless moment, Eli gawked at her, evidently dumbfounded by her answer. It certainly wasn't the answer he was expecting, and he wasn't very good at hiding his shock. Clare burst out in laughter at his expense, unable to hold herself together. The clueless look on his face was too much.

"You're laughing," he pointed at her with a pout.

"Because you believe me!" she chortled. When the pout didn't disappear, she mustered all her self-control and stopped shaking with laughter. She inhaled deeply, composing herself. The grin couldn't be erased. "Then you tell me, what should I have said instead?"

He pressed his lips together and averted his gaze, as if to say _oh. _A faint blush crept up his face. All Clare would feel was triumph, if that was even a valid feeling- she had successfully trapped him. She did it. She really did it, and it was questionable whether or not she should be feeling guilty about it, but there was too much exhilaration and anticipation and everything else was muddled into a squishy heap in her buzzing head and was he going to say something because any time now her leg would start jiggling too.

"Twist my rubber arm, "he murmured in defeat, leaning forward to capture her lips in a soft kiss. She smiled against his lips. "…girlfriend. If that's okay with you?" He stopped altogether, pausing to look at her with large, hopeful eyes. There was a faint, nervous smile playing at his lips.

"I think I'd like that a lot," Clare said breathily, kissing him fervently. Eli let out an appreciative moan, responding enthusiastically. And again. And again. The kisses wouldn't stop, and breaths were growing shallow. She heard Eli let out a sigh of relief somewhere in between, and only kissed him deeper. It was official now, and the world was as perfect as it could ever be.

That is, until Bianca burst inside, her hair dishevelled and eyes frantic.


	15. Chapter 15

**-emerges from the dead-**

* * *

"Grab your keys and shit, Eli," Bianca succinctly growled, as the door she whipped open slammed loudly against the furniture. The tiny table close behind teetered back and forth, and some of the junk Eli kept atop wobbled and shook. The cup of pens and markers spilled; they fell spectacularly onto the floor, rolling timidly towards Bianca's black leather boots. The entire floor vibrated from the vehement force she exerted. Her face was a mess. Mascara was smudged all around her startlingly dark eyes, which were ominously rimmed with red. Clare felt Eli stiffen beside her, as he protectively threw out an arm before her.

"What the hell, Bianca?" Eli barked, suddenly looking incensed. "Can't you see we're in the middle of something?"

She snorted, unamused and exasperated. "Does it look like I give a fuck? You and Clare better get yours asses off the floor and follow me, or I'll drag you by the neck if I have to."

Bianca shot a lethal glare at him, in a way that said _I mean motherfucking business. _Her irritation didn't seem to extend to Clare, but she couldn't help but feel just as involved. The usual cool, collected demeanor Bianca wore was nowhere to be found, which was more alarming than curious.

"Bianca, what's wrong?" she asked firmly, pushing Eli's arm aside. Clare rose to her feet and approached her- or at least, tried to. Eli quickly shot up as soon as she did, and wedged himself right in the middle before Clare could get any closer. "Eli, move!"

But he easily ignored her.

"I'm not cleaning up your mess again," he said curtly, folding his arms across his chest. Clare couldn't see his face, but he sounded livid and thoroughly provoked.

"Fuck you, that's not even what I came for," Bianca snapped, turning a furious shade of red.

"That's funny, considering it's the only reason why you ever barge in my apartment," Eli said.

"What's going on?" Clare demanded, trying to shove Eli aside again. It was not unlike trying to move a boulder, one that was adamant, unyielding, and nearly immovable. He was purposely obstructing her view of Bianca, which she couldn't understand at all. He had no problems with her that night at the community pool. However, what with his protective stance now, it was as if she was some sort of dangerous creature. Clare did not take kindly to this, considering she actually liked Bianca very much. She also didn't appreciate being pushed to the side lines in the midst of such a heated row. "Bianca, tell me what's wrong!"

The older girl zeroed in on her. Clare might have imagined it, as the change was so marginal, but it seemed that her eyes had softened at the sight of her.

"It's Cam," she said sharply, as Clare's heart took as heavy fall to the floor. "Jake's with him now, but he's losing it- both of them. He's trying to restrain him, but they're on a fucking building roof thirty stories height and he's freaking out."

"Wait, what? Why?" Eli said harshly, taken aback. The anger had dissolved quite a bit, but it was evidently still seething in his darkening eyes.

"He wants to jump," Bianca said almost desperately now. Her voice was dripping with fear, and the vigour was fading. "Please, Clare, you have to come. He might listen to you."

Halfway through her sentence, Clare was already out the door. She had picked up her shoes in one, swift motion, and was now taking strides longer and faster that she ever had before. It struck her that running would have been a much more efficient method of moving, but her throat felt constricted and dry. There was a sour acid taste in her mouth, and she feared that if she started to run, the movement would make her vomit. The soles of her feet cried in protest against the rough flooring. She just needed to make it to the elevator, and she'd take the time to slip on her shoes. Blood was pumping intensely through her veins, telling her that she did not, much to her terror, have the luxury of calming herself first. There was no time for properly buttoning her sweater, or for doing up the laces on her boots. With every second that past her by, Campbell was getting horrifyingly close to his death.

Eli and Bianca slipped into the elevator with her just before the door closed, panicked and panting in unison. Unlike herself, Eli had managed to slip on his shoes before he left, although his choice of footwear told her that he did not think much of it. He wore heavy brown boots, the kind construction workers wore. He fumbled around trying to tie them, hopping around on one foot all over the tiny elevator. The sight would be so funny if it weren't' for the gravity of the situation.

"The truck is doubled-parked out front," Bianca said breathlessly, rapidly scrolling through her phone. "Clare, get in the front seat with me. I need to discuss tactics with you. Eli, you better stay out of the fucking way. You've already wasted so much time."

Eli opened his mouth to defend himself, but Clare shot him a look. He was silenced immediately,

They rushed across the lobby as soon as they reached the ground floor, and Clare could easily see the conspicuous red truck through the windows. The puffs of smokes coming out of the end indicated that it was still running, and so she picked up her pace. The three threw themselves inside as soon as they made it, and before Clare knew it, they were careening down the street.

"Do you have your cell on you?" Bianca inquired shortly, as she drove recklessly. They weaved through honking cars and buses, flooring it when a yellow light was within distance. Clare felt herself being pushed against her seat from all the jerky turns and sudden increases in speed, and grinded down on her teeth.

She nodded, turning and reaching for the bag that wasn't there. "Actually, no. I left it at Eli's place."

Bianca pursed her lips to the side, making a sharp turn to the left. "Did any calls come in recently?"

"Her cell was buzzing all afternoon," Eli noted, gripping Clare's seat while leaning forward.

"That was probably Cam," Bianca sighed wearily, "Jesus Christ, Clare, why didn't you pick up?"

"Don't talk to her like that!" he growled angrily.

"I…I don't know," Clare lied feebly, her eyes tightening. She was selfish, that was why. She was too preoccupied with herself and Eli to care about anything else. "Why, were you calling?"

Bianca shook her head. "No, but I think Cam might have been."

For the second time, Clare's heart took a tumultuous fall. Partly because of Bianca's reckless driving, but mostly because of the guilt seeping through her skull. It was cold and damp, and it enveloped her body like an icy blanket. _Cam's not dead_, she vehemently told herself, picturing his warm, liquid-brown eyes smiling at her. It was so weird to think that she had just seen him earlier today. It felt like ages ago.

The arrived around the back of a factory building, where there were huge clouds of grey smoke coming out from a chimney, and a rusty ladder along the side.

"He's on top, Clare. Go!" Bianca gave her a push, before whirling around to face Eli. She glared at him. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go fucking follow her, Goldsworthy!

Stumbling over her own feet, Clare sprinted forward, hazily aware of the pitter-patter of footsteps trailing behind her. Eli caught up to her with little difficulty, and she could barley feel his hand seizing her wrist. She was too busy analyzing the ladder, and the frighteningly great height of it. It must have been at least twenty feet up, and it was narrow. Staggeringly narrow. Half the width of her stairs at home.

"There has to be another way up," she rationalized, shoulders slumping in defeat when Eli shook his head.

"I don't like it," he said shortly, scanning the unseen top with squinted eyes. "But there's no other option. Clare, jump for me, alright?"

Eli positioned her before the ladder, his hands firmly at her waist. He stood directly behind her, and –without warning- slid his hands underneath her shirt.

"_What are you doing_?" she nearly screeched at him, unbelieving that he would pick a time like this to make a move.

"Your clothes are too slippery," he said impatiently, tightening his hold. His fingernails dug into her flesh, and his muscles coiled. "On three. I'll come up after you're there. "

Gulping, Clare bobbed her head up and down.

"One, two- three!"

She let out a squeal, hands flying out automatically to grip the metal bar. Her fingers curled instinctively, playing out of sheer memory. The situation was similar, like that of holding onto the railings of a moving train- only this time, the fear was greater, and much more intensified.

Clare flew again, as Eli threw her up in the air like she was a beach ball. She knew for a fact that she weighed a lot more than one, and that it took a considerable amount of strength to toss her up like that. As she climbed, a weary sigh escaped her lips; when was she ever going to stop underestimating Eli? More importantly, why the heck did he look so scrawny when he had the capacity of lobbing a one hundred and twenty-five pound girl a foot off the ground?

The journey there was long and tedious. But that was not important, because nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.

"No, no, please, don't!" she cried, hands shovelling themselves into her hair.

Both Cam and Jake both cricked their necks, turning to look at her in synchronization. Jake's face was helpless, bordering desperation. There was a substantial distance between him and the younger boy, and Clare suspected that it was because he was scared. They both were, and Jake didn't want to prod Cam into slipping off. Cam, whose legs were dangling off the edge, looked like he was going to jump. His eyes were sad and grim, softening impossibly at the sight of her. To her marginal relief, his arms relaxed when she arrived, and the tears pooled.

She hardly knew him. She knew he hated hockey and that he lived with Dallas and that he was the sweetest boy in the world, but nothing beyond that. Yet something compelled her to stay. Not only that, but something poked at her ribcage, warning her that if he went and killed himself, she would never be able to live himself. It would be a horrible waste of a beautiful boy, so filled with goodness and tenderness.

"Oh, hi Clare," he said musically, mindlessly swinging his legs back and forth. He peered at her like she was casually dropping by, as if she had just cried out in distress. "How are you?"

She glanced frantically at Jake, hoping he would give her some sort of explanation. But he just shrugged, looking just as lost as she felt.

Clare really wanted to scream at him, or perhaps scoop him up and hug him tightly where it was safe. She feared, however, that if she moved any close, it would only induce him to scoot farther away. She had an inkling that he was waiting for the right induction, and maybe it was just all the tragic movies she watched that told her so. She was fraught with pained thoughts.

"I'm good," she said timorously, resorting to her default setting- politeness. Though shouting was really tempting, she didn't. Her brain was shutting down, and yelling seemed kind of hard right now. "I- you're not wearing your Ice Hounds jacket."

Jake threw her an even more confused look, which she responded with bewilderment. Neither were particularly educated in the suicidal department, so neither were in any place to judge.

"I hate that thing," Cam said ardently, nose wrinkling in disgust. "I hate it."

"Well, blue suits you," Clare said conversationally, slowly approaching him.

"It's my brother's," he explained, pausing his kicking, then resuming. He pursed his lips, pondering deeply. "I think it was his, at least. His favourite colour was blue, did you know?"

"Hey, my eyes are blue. We have more in common than I thought," she joked weakly, moving closer and closer. Would he recoil? Would he listen to her? After all, she was just a girl, simply a nobody in his all-star hockey life. She prayed he would.

"I called you," Cam said wistfully, making no indications that he noticed her approach. "You didn't pick up."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that," she said remorsefully, gingerly sitting next to him. Good Lord, it was really high up. Her stomach plunged all five million feet down, crashing straight into that tiny ant-man across the street. The cars looked like toys from up here, and the people like minuscule insects. Determined to focus on anything but the impressive view, she concentrated on his face. They were two friends chilling on a bench, that was all. Right under her knees was the very edge of the building, and she pretended that it was the edge of a park bench. Their shoulders brushed. This was perfectly normal too. He remained perfectly still, and Clare let out a sigh of conditional relief. "I was in the middle of something, and I couldn't find a good place to stop. What did you want to tell me?"

He gave her a sad look, tapping his feet together in a rhythmatic manner.

"Nothing. It's not important anymore," he whispered.  
"Cam, why are you doing this?" she asked, unable to keep the light conversation up any longer. It was turning heavy too quickly. "You're a smart boy."

"Not smart enough, apparently," he murmured picking at some frayed thread from the knee of his jeans. "Dallas says I'm a waste of space."

"That's not true."

"My girlfriend chose some other guy over me- some tall guitar-player," he continued morosely.

"You'll find someone new," she tried to assure him.

"My parents are five hundred miles away, having the time of their lives without me," Cam spilled, his voice turning more and more ragged. He refused to be swayed, and the father their conversation dragged, the closer he inched towards the ledge. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, allowing the little drops of glistening tears roll down his cheek. "And I hurt all the time. Don't you see, Clare? I can't go on like this."

"But you were so happy," she recalled, picturing his bright, glowy face. What a contrast it was to the boy sitting before her now. "Maybe you just-"

"No, you don't get it!" he suddenly shouted, looking at her with an anguished expression. Cam's face was now very close to hers, and the proximity was making it extremely difficult to swallow. "There is nothing out there for me. _Nothing! _I would have done this ages ago if I hadn't met you and your friends, and I feel…that if anything, I owe you some sort of good-bye."

He then calmed down, smiling sadly. "If anything, meeting you guys prolonged my living. It was a break from hell that I'm glad you gave me."

"You can't die," Clare croaked. The word felt like acid on her tongue. It was bizarre to be throwing around the concept so easily when lives would ultimately be changed. Life or death, things wouldn't be the same again for any one of them, and this thought laid heavy in the back of her mind. The weight was upon her shoulders now, as was the life of young Campbell Saunders- hockey prodigy, doe-eyed Campbell Saunders, who was irreplaceable in every sense of being.

She was selfish, though, and for a short moment she ruminated on how this would affect her own life. How it had already taken a toll on the gradual build-up to this content state of being. The spark of genuine happiness marred by another's grief. There was no other way to describe this than as life at its best. Or maybe its worst. Who knows?

_Where are you, Eli? _She wondered desperately in her head.

"You can't stop me," Cam replied softly.

"Even if I begged?" He shook his head. "Cried?"

"You'll get over it," he dismissed it a feeble wave of his hand. He pursed his lips to the side. "You wouldn't want to die without a few scars, now would you?"

_Chuck Palahniuk. _Clare leaned forward to kiss his cheek, letting her lips linger. The tears wouldn't stop falling now, and it quickly got to the point where it was impossible to tell whose tears it was. It was three seconds- maybe five. Sense of time was warped and blurry, as all too soon he was gone.

His quoting of Chuck Palahniuk had sent her over the edge, just as how sadness sent him over. And as soon as there was nothing but wind and emptiness to replace him, she twisted around and vomited.

-x—

It took three weeks before what felt like crippled limbs and ravaged hearts began to heal and function again. For four people who barely knew the kid, the impact of his death was almost confounding. Participants in his funeral meandered around in a dazed manner, neither believing nor denying that the sweet, small-town boy had cut his life short on his own account. The coffin was empty. There was nothing but a splatter of blood and lifeless limbs that remained of him, though only the police and Clare knew that part. The pool of blood underneath him, rapidly seeping out and colouring the grey pavement was an image no amount of therapy could erase. Eli tried to hold her hand when Cam's mother approached her, but she shook her head. He wasn't there to see the mess of body parts. He wasn't there right down to the last seconds of life. He can try to convince her that Cam was sick, and that nothing she did would have prevented the terrible, unprecedented event from occurring, but she's not a fool. She had the power to stop him- to even prolong his life. But she didn't, and it was because she was scared and hesitant.

Cam's mother told her that it wasn't her fault. She rubbed Clare's shoulders and smiled tearily, telling her that she couldn't have possibly cured his depression in that instance. She says that Clare's sixteen and no sixteen-year old could have carried that burden alone. That Cam was a son she is so thankful to have raised, but his sadness would have ultimately chewed up him regardless. At this, Clare wanted to throw up again, because she knew that wasn't true- the truth was that hockey killed him, but who would want to believe that? No, Toronto would always remember Campbell Saunders as the hockey superstar whose career ended before it even began, and nothing would change that. So she simply nodded and accepted her hug, wishing her the best of luck.

The whole school showed up that day, giving their condolences with sorrowful faces. Most of them didn't even know Cam personally, and this made Clare even sadder. How was it that the most popular boy at school barely had any friends? Aside from his hockey team, of course, who arrived looking ashen and shell-shocked. The exception was Dallas, who appeared be to a lethal combination of anger and grief. No one had even seen the Ice Hound's captain so positively deranged, and it heightened the magnitude of the whole situation. It was about an hour in that Dallas couldn't hold it in anymore, and so he began screaming a colourful stream of profanities while thrashing and kicking chairs over. The choked sob that caught in his throat was so painful to listen to, Clare had to grind down on her fingers to keep from joining him. She buried her face in Bianca's shoulder as Eli and the team dragged him out, hoping that her spicy perfume would distract from the agonizing howling sound.

It didn't.

That was the first day. And for the first whole week, Clare spent her nights screaming and thrashing around herself, tangling her legs in blankets as she fought off nightmares. Even with Helen lying next to her, trying to coax her into calmness, Cam's broken body kept reappearing in her mind. In every nook and cranny of her bedroom she saw Cam's face. Cam's eyes in the colour of her desk. Cam's laugh in the whistle of the wind. She thought of him more than she had actually spent time with him, and that was the most perturbing part of it._  
_ It was by the third week of nightmares, lack of appetite, and withstanding grimaces that Eli showed up on her doorstep, skin more pallid than ever before.

"What are you doing here?" Clare asked with a frown, her voice barely a whisper. She had very clearly told him not to press, to give her time apart to deal. They both needed time to deal, and while the break started off as merely a suggestion, Clare took it and adamantly stuck with it. How could she possibly be a good girlfriend to him when she could barely keep herself together? Eli didn't understand that she had to fix herself first. He didn't understand at all. Just like her mother. Dallas might, but he was too busy putting himself together to help her.

"I thought you might want some company," he said wryly, knowing full well that company was exactly what she'd been avoiding.

He stepped aside, revealing said company. Both had obviously fallen victim of sleepless nights and heavy remorse, looking equally worse for wear. Without even waiting for an invitation, they walked right past Eli and into Clare's home.

"My mom is home!" Clare hissed, not really sure why she was so snappish. She was exhausted, after all. The two of them proceeded to sit themselves on the couch as if she hadn't said anything at all while Eli remained at the threshold, scratching the back on his calve with the toe of his shoe. Clare narrowed her eyes, poking at the stinking feeling that this was a set-up.

"She'll understand," Eli said quietly, wringing his wrists.

Then as if on cue, soft footsteps from the kitchen resounded, heralding the arrival of another. Clare gnawed on her lip and tensed up her shoulders, preparing for her mother's initial shriek of shock. She wasn't exactly…up to date on her love life's recent progression, and she certainly wasn't in the mood for extemporaneous explanations. Nor was she feeling particularly devoted towards Eli this very moment.

"Mom, I can explain," she began definitely, whirling around. She met a weary face that wore no sharp lines or creased brows, and that was instead plagued by fatigue. Randall Edwards had his hands on his hips in an authoritarian manner, although he wasn't really poised to rebuke. He looked like what Clare felt, which was tiredness in its rawest form.

His eyes flickered back and forth between his daughter and the boy on the threshold, paying no attention to the two ragged teens occupying his couch. For a brief second he appeared conflicted; his foot twitched, as if he had seriously considered receding to the kitchen. "Eli. I didn't realize we were expecting guest."

Eli's eye widened in petrifaction at the sight of Randall. What little colour in his face drained almost instantaneously, and he shook a little bit. Not too much, but enough for Clare to see that he still hadn't recovered from the first incident with her parents- the boy was still worried. Scared even, that he was there putting a hold on their daughter with nothing but empty hands to offer. That was a fear-a psychological issue-that no amount of time and progress could erase, and Clare endeavoured not to swell too much on it.

And despite her exhaustion, her mild exasperation, she sent him a quietly tender look. He gulped, bowing his head.

"I'm sorry for showing up out of the blue, Mr. Edwards," Eli began smoothly, almost monotonously. He was struggling to keep his voice even. "But I'm here to speak with Clare. Along with our other friends, of course."

No one except Clare knew that it took him a great deal of resolution to say those words. "I haven't seen you around in a while," Randall mused. "Not since…"

Clare quickly glanced at Eli, reading his mind at once. _Not since you've made it clear that I don't deserve your daughter. _ His face was twisting into a grimace too cynical for her liking.

"That was a long time ago, dad," she said with an air of finality to her tone.

"But your mother, Clare…"

"She doesn't like me, I know," Eli scowled bitterly. Bitingly. If he was mad, it wasn't directed towards anyone but himself, and that's what made her the most apprehensive. He roughly tugged at his sleeve, glaring hardly at his feet. "I suppose I can leave then, if that's what's easier. Jake and Bianca are more than capable or passing along the message or whatnot."

The two on the couch exchanged looks, pressing their lips together in a fine line. Neither wished to get involved, and remained stoically silent. Clare let out a small harrumph, piqued that they chose now to shut their trap. Reservation wasn't a good look on them.

"You don't have to do that," she said softly, yet firmly. What was easier is having no company at all, but she wouldn't be quick to admit that.

He shrugged, already moving away from the interior. "It's okay. I have work, anyways." A shot of panic rushed through her spine as he moved lower down the step. "Bye, Mr. Edwards."

"Eli-"she started, taking a half-step towards him.

"Bye Clare."

"Don't leave," she whispered, two seconds about the door slammed shut. The palpable tension in the room didn't leave with Eli, and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly in a feeble attempt at recovering. She knew all eyes were on her now, and the best she could do was not cry. She repressed the tears to the best of her ability, the state of emotional turmoil weighing heavily down at her chest. It was not fair for Eli to walk out like that. Granted, she didn't want him here in the first place, but _still. _The sting of rejection and abandonment tarried. Saltiness pricked her eyes, and she wiped them away hastily.

Clare turned round on her father, steadily meeting his tired eyes. "You shouldn't have done that."

He frowned. "Honey, please don't tell me you two are friends. You know how your mother feels-"

"What about you? What do you think?" Clare said insistently, willing herself to feel mad at something, anything. It was easier being angry than to wallow up in her own self-pity and penitence. It just so happened that her father made himself an ideal target.

"What I think doesn't matter," he stated flatly, rubbing his temples in the way he usually did when migraines were coming on. Clare's grief has taken a toll on all of them.

"_Why_?" she pressed, raising her voice. "You don't have a problem with him, and neither do I. Whatever mom thinks is irrelevant."

Randall raised a careful eyebrow. "Please don't raise your voice on me, Clare. I just don't want you to get in trouble with your mother, which we both know would be a bad idea right now. She's stressed out right now, honey."

"Because of me," Clare said categorically. It wasn't a question. Randall shifted uncomfortably, neither confirming nor denying. "That's all I do, isn't it? I give people a hard time."

"That's not true."

"Whatever. It doesn't matter," she said curtly, simultaneously scooping down to collect the first pair of shoes she could find. Jabbing one of them in her father's direction, she added, "I need to get out of here, anyways."

"Not with that Eli boy, you're not," Randall said sternly. Densely so. If it weren't for the anger blocking her ears, Clare would have heard the small, annoyed huff coming from the couch.

"_Why_?" she nearly shouted, stamping her foot on the floor in frustration. "_Why _do you hate him so much? And don't you dare try to use mom's angle on me!"

Evidently, Clare was not the only one struggling to keep her temper in check. While she was doing a poorer job at it, Randall seemed to be getting just as frustration with the whole situation himself. Whisked away was the look of inertia and fatigue, and to replace it was someone who had been provoked and prodded. His neck turned red, a dangerous sign for a man who rarely got irate. She had only seen it several times her childhood, so infrequently that she could count the moments on one hand- and more times than not, it was when she had done something remarkably disobedient. But Clare couldn't see what she had done wrong this time. "_Because, _Clare. Eli Goldsworthy is a boy who will only cause you trouble in the long run. Do you really want to hear the truth? Because the fact is, that boy will never be able to support you. He'll never be able to provide you with what you deserve."

"No one said anything about marrying him," she muttered defensively, masking the impact of his words with defiance.

Randall shook his head. "Your mother and I did not raise you to be a young woman who took love and relationships frivolously. You never showed any interest in a boy your age before, and while we could have just passed this off as a teenage infatuation, we knew better. Eli was never merely a boy you took a liking in He was different because you had history with him."

So they knew. They knew all along, and they were fighting their hardest not to let it happen.

"You can do so much better," he said in a matter-of-fact voice, reaching out to take her hand. "You're young now, but what about fifteen years down the road? You want kids, don't you Clare?"

"Yes, and I'm fairly certain Eli's fertile," she said dryly, causing Jake to let out an involuntary snort.

"What about after that?" Randall pressed. "Do you think he'll stay around? After his own parents neglected him for years, what makes you think he'll feel inclined to do differently?"

She shook her head, backing up against the door. Behind her, she fumbled around for the knob and gripped it tightly in her hand. "He won't. He wouldn't."

"And how are you so sure about that?"

For a whole jumble of reasons that refused to organise in her head, she was sure. Because Eli was Eli, and no one knew him better than she did. Because he was extraordinarily devoted and passionate in the things that he loved, and was deathly afraid of losing her. Because he wasn't scared of being reckless from time to time, and pushed her in ways she needed to be pushed. Because they cried and screamed and fought to get to where they were, and walking away from all that would be a substantial waste. She needn't to prove anything to anyone.  
"I'm really tired, dad."

And she made sure the door slammed behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a ghost town in the ice arena, but he felt inclined to sit himself on the top bleacher, rubbing his palms together to keep warm. His breath was a puff of frigid smoke in front of his face, obscuring his view of the pristine rink. Essence of life he suddenly felt guilty of showing. The lights were dim. If he uttered a sound, it was sure to echo and be heard on the other side.

He propped his feet up one-by-one on the second row, gazing straight ahead with a slight squint to his eyes. It wasn't that he couldn't see, or that what he was looking at was blurry- no, it was just because when he squinted, he could see Cam skating around with a hockey stick in his hand. He could also see Dallas a couple feet away, screaming instructions at Drew. But mostly he could see Cam and the thoughtful, faraway look in his eyes.

The frosty tingle crawling down his spine had nothing to do with the coldness of the ice.

He might have spent hours there, sitting with his arms firmly folded over his chest, head leaning on the wall behind him. He'd begun to lose all feeling in his feet a little while ago. Does it matter? Would warming them up take away any of the sadness and grief? Probably not, so he let them be.

He left the arena about an hour later to talk a brisk walk around the neighbourhood. His feet automatically took him back to Clare's place, and it took him a great deal of willpower to force them the other direction. Jake's house was second on the list, and so he journeyed there with the sky darkening above him. His stomach growled impatiently the whole way there, but the bile creeping up his throat repressed any desire to eat. He'd probably throw up before anything would assuage his hunger, anyways. Funny enough, he hadn't thought about eating anything for the entire day. How funny indeed. What was funnier was that his apartment had been vacant for days; for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to look at any of his artwork or drawing supplies, as it brought a new wave of nausea with every glance. He couldn't risk potentially destroying them either, in an abrupt urge to rip every reminder of his pressing guilt out of sight. The only alternative was to remain somewhere else for the time being, and he really, _really _couldn't handle going back to his old house. The grief there is too fresh, cut too deep. The influence would be overwhelming.

So Jake's house it was, with his own presence titled as a temporary accommodation. Then somehow the couple of days stretched like a thin elastic band, turning rapidly into weeks. Cognizance lingered in the air between the two of them, and Jake didn't have the heart or desire to kick him out. Eli simply didn't have the courage to leave the semi-safe refuge yet, because maybe he needed Clare to give him it. She'd been MIA for way too long now, with the warming weather as an indication of how much time is really passing. Silly games of flirting and sweet, trivial promises were far past them now. Suddenly, it wasn't important whether or not they were officially together, or if the intensity of the others feelings was mutual. Insignificant, pedestrian issues. Frivolousness aside (if such a thing ever existed between them), the need is raw. He needed Clare. And maybe she needed him too.

As soon as he got around twisting the spare key Jake gave him inside the lock, the door swung open. A mass of something with brown curls assaulted him at once, knocking the wind out of him.

"He's wrong," she whispered fervently in his ear, making him shiver. "He doesn't know that you're a good person like I do."

He wasn't sure whether it was the affirmation that instantly relaxed him, or just the feeling of her soft body molded against him. Either way, he didn't protest. He sagged a bit within her hold, much to weary to hold himself up completely.

"Please forgive me for leaving you out for so long. I-I was trying to collect myself, and I know it wasn't right-"

"Don't," he said, and he pressed his lips against hers. Because he just wanted her back, and that was all.

Barely a few seconds had passed, and he knew it had been way too long. Clare had never tasted this good before, or felt so incredible pressed up against him. Quickly, he began to take up the upper hand, and was pushing into her gently enough so that it wasn't too much for her to handle, but with enough fever to get his lower region throbbing in renewal.

"You look like hell," Bianca commented from deeper inside, interrupting the embarrassing chant of _ClareClareClareIloveyouIloveyou_ resounding in his head. Eli lifted him head slightly, meeting the quiet gaze of a girl who looked like the life was sucked out of her. She was sitting with her legs neatly folded up, her arm perched on the arm of a lumpy couch. Jake was standing beside her, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand.

Eli merely shrugged, reluctantly untangling himself from Clare's embrace. He might have taken their reunion a bit too far, considering now he felt indecent under the public scrutiny, but the warmth that was immediately ripped away from him almost stung. The distinct smell of sour cream evaded his sense of smell as Jake continued to munch on his sandwich, and he wrinkled his nose. Food had never been such a gross thought before, and at the moment, he couldn't even stand to be in the same room as it.

Jake noticed his scrutiny, and pointed his sandwich towards him. "Want a bite?"

Clare gave a pitiful smile when Eli made a face, shaking his head. "Gross."

"There's some hard-boiled egg on the stove," Bianca offered. "Dry crackers in the cupboard, too."

"Eggs it is, "Eli grimaced, unwillingly trudging towards the kitchen. Bianca stood up and waved him away.

"I got it," she said.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Do you want your damn eggs or not?"

"I'll help you salt them," Clare murmured, flittering towards Bianca and linking her arms. As she led Bianca away, she turned over her shoulder to cast Eli a meaningful glance. There was a silent gravity weighing down heavily in her eyes.

"Did I say something wrong?" Eli muttered under his breath, taking Bianca's place on the couch. Jake merely shrugged and continued to devour his sandwich, completely oblivious to Eli's futile efforts in resisting wrinkling his nose. The analog clock that hung on a wall in the living area ticked loudly and ominously, heralding the painful passing seconds that went by with silence. The sound of Jake's teeth grinding against meat and bread. Eli's heartbeat slowing down and accelerating abnormally. _The fucking silence._ It felt wrong and weird. This was stupid, and it was disquieting him.

"I feel so weird," he grumbled, roughly propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"I know," Jake mumbled, licking his fingers clean and saying nothing else. Jake Martin was a man of few words and crude jokes. Almost useless in a situation like this, but Eli tried to appreciate his efforts anyway. "She feels guilty, you know."

"It's not Clare's fault," he said irritably, immediately defensive. Exasperation prickled him as he cautiously checked back towards the kitchen door. It was still closed, thank God. The last thing needed was for someone to confirm her worst fear. She had enough on her plate as it is.

"I know," Jake snapped uncharacteristically, clutching his sandwich tightly. Some white stuff oozed out from the sides and dripped onto the carpet, but he paid no attention. "I was talking about Bianca."

"Well, good," Eli bristled. "She should be."

Jake narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Eli let out an annoyed exhale, scrambling to get his feet off of the table. "She pressured Clare!" he whispered-shouted, jumping to his feet. Well-aware of the fact that Jake literally towered over him, he folded his arms in a defensive stature. "_Your _girl made her feel like it was solely her responsibility to prevent him from jumping, when there wasn't a damnest chance in the world! He was sitting on the edge of a building, for fuck's sake, and she put all the weight on Clare to save the day! How is that fair?"

Taken aback, and bitterly defeated by logic just the same, Jake mumbled a low "fuck you" and something like "she's not my girl" while turning away. He was clearly upset over the words, but Eli was too irritated to concentrate of anything else but wounding. Jake's response was unsatisfactory. If only he yelled back, maybe hit a few nerves, than he'd have an excuse to start a fight. He wanted to hurt Jake like Cam's death hurt Clare and himself. He wanted to be angry at something, and unleash every bit of unjust pain inflicted upon him. His fist clenched at his side, tempted to strike- a dangerous place to be in, especially for someone so irascible and volatile. His eyes scanned the room, half-heartedly searching for a victim that wouldn't bear much of a consequence, and came across a couple of pillows strewn across the seat of the second couch. It wasn't good enough, and the agitated search continued.

"Fucking take up my space and blame me," Jake grumbled as he dug around the cupboard under the staircase. He fumbled around for a bit, and sloppily pulled out a giant bottle beer. "Fucking hell, Eli."

There was wall. A lot of wall. The pillar thing that was fairly soft and unfinished. _Fuck. Fuck. Don't do it Eli. _He was going to explode, and he didn't know why. There was no build-up, no previous indication that he was going to feel this much. Jake was climbing up the stairs now, rummaging through his pockets to find a bottle opening. The obnoxious popping sound evading his ears, followed by some heavy gulping. He coughed and started to stumble, but eventually made his way up.

There was a sickening cracking sound, and instant pain coursing through his right hand. He pulled out, staring wide-eyed at his bloody, plaster-covered hand.

It took him a second to register. Oh dear mother, what had he done?

The kitchen door swung upon in an instant, Bianca and Clare pouring out with surprised looks on their faces. The surprise quickly morphed into horror, than disbelief for Clare. For Bianca, she remained stricken. Eli stood like a deer caught in headlights, eyes flickering from his bloody injury, to the girls, and then to the gaping hole on the wall.

"Umm…there was a bug," he stammered, sounding guilty. He really had no excuse. Clare looked whiter than the bowl of eggs she was holding. "A really big bug."

"Your hand!" she wailed, shoving the bowl into Bianca's chest and darting forward. She surveyed the damage with distraught eyes, completely ignoring the pool of wall bits crunching under her feet. Eli winced at the thought of splinters poking her bare feet, but was suddenly overwhelmed by the pain rippling through him. Second to it was the guilt, washing away any trace of anger he once had.

"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice, commencing his drowning session in self-pity. He had let his anger get the best of him again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Clare looked up at him with soft, worried eyes. Bianca, however, was not as kind.

"You got pissed again, didn't you?" she guessed, critical gaze flickering from his expression, to the open door of the cupboard, and to the spot Jake had formerly occupied. "Don't even lie, Goldsworthy."

"Bianca!" Clare cried in reproach, throwing her arms around Eli's waist.

There was so much guilt surging through him now, that he had to repress the urge to throw up.  
"Edwards, please," she shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. It certainly didn't slip past him that the acidity in her voice diminished substantially at the direct involvement of Clare. Of course, who could possibly be cruel to her? "Your boyfriend is unpredictable. His anger is his default."

That certainly hit a nerve. Eli recoiled, as if she had physically slapped him, momentarily shocked by the harshness of her words.

Clare whirled around, expecting to see Jake. Her eyebrows wrinkled together when his absence was apparent to her, putting one and one together. "Oh, Eli. Did you get into a fight with Jake?"

The cloying kindness and patience she was expressing- it was almost suffocating, the way he didn't deserve it. "It was stupid, Clare, don't worry about it."

And then she did something so unbelievably uncharacteristic (which in all honestly, who wasn't acting out of character today?) that Eli would have laughed in amusement if the situation was different. She stamped her foot, making Bianca snort when he couldn't.

"Don't say that! It's not okay, and I have every right to be worried!" she cried, stamping and stamping. "Nothing's okay because Cam is dead, and we all feel equally responsible for it! We're all a mess, can't you see? Bianca's feeling so guilty, she offered to make you eggs, Eli! _Boiled eggs. _She hates boiled eggs! Now you're off punching walls in a fit of anger because you can't think straight, and Jake's probably somewhere getting drunk!"

"How did you know?" Eli asked stupidly, trying to clench his fist. He let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and a tear slipped down Clare's cheek.

A muffled, retching sound filled the room.

"Oh."

"Well, what about you?" Bianca asked, gentle and stern at the same time. She pointed a finger at her, which Eli immediately slapped with his good hand. Even in his state of disorientation, he found the impulse to glare at her for being offensive towards his girlfriend. "That's why we're here, right? You've been in a zombie state for weeks."

"It's not her fault," Eli snapped.

"Then it's yours," she said coolly. "I hope you're not returning to your angry state again, Goldsworthy. Wouldn't want to punch your little girlfriend by mistake now, do you?"

"Stop it," Clare rebuked, looking sharply at Bianca.

"Clare, let me handle this," Eli said impatiently, still glowering at Bianca. "Will you shut up?"

"Oh, what a stunning display of verbal acuity," she mocked. "You really got me there."

"Fuck off," he growled. "Four minutes ago you were offering me eggs, and now you're acting all hostile towards me? What's your deal?"

She scoffed, ignoring the latter part. "That was before you fucking broke a wall, you brainless idiot. You broke a wall because you were pissed off at something Jake's said, and apparently, that's a-okay. Jesus, Eli. You're so erratic, it's giving me whiplash."

"Well, you're no picnic either," he growled, daring to advance.

Bianca's eyes flashed dangerously. "You know what? It probably is your entire fault. You shouldn't have picked him up that night we headed to the pool. We never would have known him, and it never would have screwed us all up this much. It could have saved us lot of grief, Eli."

"Are you serious? He would have just killed himself that night!" he roared, throwing him arms up in frustration. Short, quick flashes of the night played in his head, and a ripple of guilt trickled down his spine when he remembered Cam's morose face. His taciturnity certainly didn't slip past him, either, and he gritted his teeth. "If anything, we made him live longer."

She barked out in humourless laughter, enraging Eli even more. "Well, congratulations. I hope it's worth all this shit we have left to deal with."

"Don't say that!" Clare nearly shrieked, starting to lose grip on herself. She clawed fruitlessly at her head of curls, her faced contorted with pain. The anguished look she was wearing had rapidly grown more prominent as their row progressed, and for the briefest moment, Eli seriously considered grabbing her hand and running away with her. It was one bizarre option the somehow convinced himself that would alleviate the pain. He was still too mad at Bianca to think past the haze, but he felt the yearning stirring deep in his heart. He yearned to escape the madness, the emotional disorder that was clearly ruining everything. They could keep running until they couldn't recognize the street names, to somewhere far away and unheard of- after all, all he really needed in life was air in his lungs and Clare Edwards by his side. A rush of adrenaline surged through his veins, and he gulped. His heart literally broke into two when he saw how upset she was, and if she just said the word, he would do it. No questions asked.

Tears were streaming down her face, and his knees nearly buckled under its gravity. Unable to take it any longer, he shakingly reached out to pull her in- at least, he tried to. Instead of a warm body, he was met by both emptiness and a fresh sting of rejection.

"Don't touch me," she shrank away, flickering her gaze between him and Bianca. "And stop thinking what you're thinking right now- both of you."

"Clare-"Bianca began to protest bitingly.

"_Don't_," she hissed. "And don't treat me like I know nothing at all! I'm not stupid; I know that behind all that anger, both of you are hurting. The guilt is eating you up alive, and all you want is someone and something to blame. I- _Eli, don't interrupt me!" _she snapped, glaring at him in a way that almost frightened him. "If anyone should be upset, it should be me. And I'll admit, I'm not handling it all that well either." She vehemently shook her head, glaring daggers at Eli's tentative, outstretched hand. "But you know what? Fighting isn't going to solve anything. Finding the absolute best candidate for blame isn't going to solve anything. Only time can do that. So please, can we all just kiss and make up?"

Eli bit down his tongue. _She's not really my type,_ he suppressed. Strangely enough, he had a feeling those words wouldn't go well with Clare, so he kept his mouth shut. He scrunched his shoulders together and bowed his head, feeling like a child who had just been reprimanded. He didn't dare peek at Clare, for the fear that she may still be giving him a hard look, and shoved his hand into his pockets.

"Ow," he said involuntarily, wincing as he remembered his injured hand.

Clare sighed, rubbing her temples. "Bianca, could you get me a basin filled with water? I need to watch Eli's hand before it gets inflected. Please."

The older girl shifted all her weight onto her left foot, folding her arms across her chest. She was suddenly very interested at the mess of crumbled plaster on the floor.

"Fine, I'll get it," Clare snapped, storming off into the kitchen. She brushed past her with sparing a single glance- not that Bianca was looking at anything but the ground, anyways. As the door closed with a click, the tension in the room became palpable; the air was frosty and uncomfortable, and it was clear that neither of them wanted to be in each other's company. The yearning to grab his girlfriend and run continued to throb with intensity. As the reality of Clare's words sunk in, Eli realized what inevitably had to be done, and he therefore dragged out the silence as long as he could.

Growing up in a group home taught him that there were two ways to deal a situation- to pluck up the courage to fight, or to be a coward and flee. Apologizing was definitely not one of his strong feats- apologizing to Clare? Sure, no problem. If a screwed-up asshole like himself somehow managed to seize a hold on someone as wonderful and amazing as Clare, he had no issues with apologizing for the rest of his existence. But oh God, _apologizing _to anyone else? Especially when he was damn sure he reserved little to no fault in the incident? Not only was that detrimental to his masochistic ego (he tried to keep this side of him hidden from Clare), but it was also incredibly hard. Where would he start in saying something completely unauthentic and false? It was ten times making up with Dallas, he had to admit.

_Stop being such a drama queen and do it, _he urged himself, as Bianca examined her nails in an obvious attempt to appear busy.

"I wish he didn't have to die," Eli mumbled embarrassedly, staring at the blood trickling down his forearm.

"I wish I could have been more useful," she muttered in return, equally as embarrassed to be admitting something so personal. They shifted awkwardly.

"I'm not going to apologize." He then said.

She looked up, wrinkling her nose like she had smelled something sour.

Well, that went exactly how he planned.

"I wasn't counting on it," she replied rather haughtily. Then she did something that Eli found a little odd- frowning, she twisted her neck around and tried to inconspicuously peer through glass part of the kitchen door. A couple of seconds went by with her holding her breath, spying on Clare. "She's filling the basin up. Look, I'm not really a fan of kissing and making up, so let's just skip to the part where we're civil again. I don't want to give Edwards a hard time."

"Really?" He said doubtfully.

She scowled, lowering her voice. "Tell anyone and I'll skin you alive, but I like that girl. She's one of the few people I can stand."

Both his eyebrows shot up, evidently shocked by this revelation. He always knew she and Clare were good with each other, but he hadn't imagined she'd be this fond of her. For Bianca, the declaration was practically an "I love you" in disguise, and for some reason, this made him feel a bit jealous. Surely the younger girl was easy to love in several ways, as he himself had fallen victim of her sweetness and passion. People were allowed to like her. So why the defensiveness?

"Wow, should I be worried? That's a pretty serious statement coming from you."

"I want her to stay my friend," she said shortly. "Got a problem with that?"

Actually, yes. A few problems, as a matter of fact. It was a rhetorical question, and he decided to cut the smart-ass remark and go straight to the point. "As long as you remember that she's mine, I don't," he said.

Bianca opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was taken away by the re-opening of the door- it heralded the return of the very devil they were speaking of, and what snide comment that had sat at the tip of her tongue quickly disintegrated as soon as the basin was in view.

"I won't bash on you anymore if stop being such an asswipe," she said smoothly, sounding a tinge bit rehearsed. Eli's face split into a dry smirk.

"No promises on my part, but I'm agreeable."

Clare set the container down, and rested her hands on her hips. She eyed them both critically. Eli put on his best angelic expression, except he knew that she saw right through his flimsy, false act.

Then she smiled wearily.

"I wouldn't expect any less of you."

-x—

Everyone healed their own way, at their own pace. When she lay in bed that night, she fell in and out of sleep, with the same nightmare creeping into her mind every time. The blood. The haggard face. The vomit. Sometimes she would start shaking uncontrollably, but Eli's arms would always hold her tighter, and he'd lull her back into a land of slumber and peace. His breathing, even and steady, calmed her like the sound of an ocean crashing the shore would. His breath smelled like peppermint and the cotton shirt he'd lent her smelled like his deodorant, drowning her in all things Eli. She felt more secure than she had in weeks, and every so often she'd reach over and touch his face. Just to make sure of her own personal space heater and safe haven.

Their legs were tangled together in a heap of hot limbs. The cover pulled over them only added to the extreme heat, and it certainly didn't help that his body was so close to hers. Her mother and father, wherever they were in the world at the moment, would unquestionably be unhappy if they saw what kind of compromising situation their daughter and the boy they despised were in. If old Clare made a reappearance, she'd wrench herself upwards and jump right out of bed. She wouldn't hesitate to tear right out of this dysfunctional household, with the intention of returning home and launching herself into Helen's arms. She'd willingly throw herself at her mercy, willingly accept any form of corrective consequence appointed to her. That was because old Clare wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this, both physically and allegorically. Old Clare wouldn't think of out rightly rebelling against her parents.

That was old Clare- naïve, and for the most part unscathed. Time and life had struck down on the space between them, creating a chasm of differences that couldn't necessarily be bridged. New Clare was endeavouring with shaky knees to rise from the ashes, picking up the broken pieces here and there to fix herself again. Her parents hadn't felt the blow. They couldn't heal injuries they had never seen or felt before, therefore their understanding was limited and they wouldn't get why she had to do things that were rather moot. Furthermore, they wouldn't be able to understand why she'd clung on to the people she did, because they simply weren't young, broken, and in love. She had to remind herself that that was just it, no matter how difficult it was to tear away, and venture on.

Teenage-hood was a treacherous adventure to embark in, she soon decided, and left it at that.

She didn't want to disturb Eli, but the heat was really started to get to her. Gingerly, she tried to roll out to the side, intending on poking her legs out of the comforter. It was an agonizingly slow movement, which soon proved to be futile when Eli's arm instinctively wrapped around her tighter. His gentle snores indicated that he was still fast asleep, and that unless she wanted to be trapped in the unbearable hotness forever, she had to wake him up.

"Eli, "she whispered, caressing his cheek.

He stirred, jarring awake at once. It was a small, quiet action, but it was enough to get his eyes snapping wide open.

"What happened? Did you have another bad dream again?" he asked throatily, voice lagging with sleep. He rolled over to his side, blinking wildly at her in an attempt to stay awake.

"No, it's just getting a bit too hot in here," she said softly, pushing the blanket away from her body. The rush of cool air that hit her was bliss, causing her to let out a sigh of relief. "That's better."

"If you're still too hot, you could always take your clothes off," he said groggily, the sleepy smile evident from his tone. She couldn't see him through the darkness, she was sure he was grinning. "I don't mind."

Clare blushed, feeling her face spike up in temperature. Eli was usually a gentleman when it came to comments like those, and her pulse couldn't help but quicken at his suggestiveness. The dark and the night certainly gave him more confidence than in the broad daylight. "Well, I do, so I think I'll keep them on."

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," he said in a sing-song voice, partly to himself, partly to Clare.

She blushed even deeper. "Thanks for the reminder."

He chuckled lowly, throwing the blanket onto the floor altogether and shifting closer to her. He propped his elbow up on his pillow so that he was able to get a better look at her, trying cutely to scratch his nose with his bum hand. He scrunched up his nose, mildly frustrated by the fact that his itch took longer to alleviate. All wrapped up in thick white bandages, his fingers were temporarily inflexible- the tiny bow at his wrist was an adorable accent that had Clare's handiwork written all over it, though it was obvious that technically she didn't do a fantastic job at binding his hand. Bianca had convinced her otherwise, however, her opinion was kind of unreliable considering she didn't care all that much for Eli's comfort.

"I'll happily remind you every day, if I could. You were one of my most favourite things to draw." And he was so sweet and sincere about it, she smiled modestly and buried her face in her own pillow. It was one of her favourite memories ever, what he was referring to, and while it was somewhat embarrassing to hear him talk about it, she was glad that it made him so happy. She loved anything that made him happy.

"Do you think Jake will be okay?" Clare asked, rolling over onto her back and deciding to change to a much safer topic. "Before we headed to bed, Bianca said she was going to check on him. He was drinking pretty heavily, Eli. I hope he's alright."

He leaned forward to kiss her temple, smiling gently at her. "He will be, Clare. Don't worry so much."

"What about Bianca?"

Eli shrugged. "She's strong. She'll manage. In fact, they might be banging in the room down the hall as we speak."

Clare scoffed playfully at his terminology, then cringed- the walls were thin, and neither seemed like the type to hold back. She was glad so far that her virgin ears hadn't yet the misfortune of hearing any primal moans of the sort, any screams of ecstasy or something of the sort. Her knowledge of sex was fairly limited to the technicalities health class provided, though she wouldn't put it past Eli to inform her if he knew. He was probably a lot more experienced in this department than she was, given how expertly he has pleasured that girl from the Ravine. She wondered briefly if he ever thought about doing stuff like that with her, or if he was disappointed that he certainly wouldn't in the near future. After all, Eli had to know what he was missing out on.

Her face slackened as realization dawned on her. What if Eli really was upset that he and Clare couldn't do what Jake and Bianca did all the time? They never once discussed the matter, although her vow for abstinence should be quite obvious considering Clare went to church every Sunday. He knew she was religious. Once upon a time he was too, so Eli had to know what he was getting himself into, right?

"And you?" she asked, a little softer this time. The inevitable sex talk would have to wait. It wasn't an issue that should be dodged and skipped around, no matter how faraway it seemed. "Will you be alright, too?"

Whether or not the double meaning was understood by him, Clare couldn't help but relax under his loving gaze. "I'll be okay, too," he promised, promptly leaning forward again to give her a second kiss of which Clare dodged. The crease between his eyebrows made an appearance, and he tried again. This time she swatted his face out of instinct, before realizing how much of a full-on rebuff that was. Plastering on an impish smile so that his feelings wouldn't be hurt, she pretended like it was meant to be playful. "Ouch. Well, I won't be if you keep rejecting me," he joked, withdrawing.

"You'll be okay," she said, grinning at Eli's pout. "_We'll _be okay."

And they would be for now.


End file.
